BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR: 

A    HOPELESS   CASE. 

"  Little  Classic  "  style,  i8mo,  red  edges,  $/.2j. 

"A  Hopeless  Case"  will,  we  are  sure,  meet  with  a  very  enthusi 
astic  reception  from  all  who  can  appreciate  fiction  of  a  high  order. 
The  picture  of  New  York  society,  as  revealed  in  its  pages,  is  remark 
ably  graphic  and  true  to  life A  thoroughly  delightful 

novel  —  keen,  witty,  and  eminently  American.  It  will  give  the  author 
a  high  rank  as  a  writer  of  fiction.  —  Boston  Traveller. 

"A  Hopeless  Case"  contains  much  that  goes  <o  make  up  a  novel 
of  the  best  order  —  wit,  sarcasm,  pathos,  and  dramatic  power  —  with 
its  sentences  clearly  wrought  out  and  daintily  finished.  It  is  a  book 
which  ought  to  have  a  great  success.  —  Cincinnati  Commercial. 

As  a  sprightly  and  interesting  comedy  this  book  will  find  hosts  of 
interested  readers.  It  has  its  lessons  of  value  in  the  striking  con 
trasts  it  furnishes  of  the  different  styles  of  life  found  in  our  great 
cities.  —  New  England  Journal  of  Education. 

Its  brilliant  and  faithful  pictures  of  New  York  society  and  its 
charming  heroine  can  hardly  fail  to  make  it  very  popular.  —  Salem 
Gazette. 

A  society  novel,  charmingly  written.  One  of  the  most  beautiful 
books  of  the  season.  —  Boston  'l*ranscript. 

***  For  sale  fry  Booksellers.  Sent,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  tJie  Publishers, 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO.,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE 


A   NOVEL 


EDGAR  FAWCETT 


SEVENTH    EDITION. 


BOSTON 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND    COMPANY 

Htoer0ttie  Press,  Cambrifc(j;e 

1881 


Copyright,  iSSi, 
BY  EDGAR   FAWCETT. 

All  rights  reserved. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 

STEREOTYPED     AND     PRINTED     BY 
H.    O.    HOUGHTON   AND   COMPANY. 


A  GENTLEMAN   OF  LEISURE. 


I. 


morning,   while 


NE  agreeable  winter 
the  grim  roar  of  painted  omnibuses 
rose  from  Broadway  between  two 
brisk  streams  of  moving  humanity,  a  gentle 
man  named  Mr.  Townsend  Spring  suddenly 
stopped  under  the  big,  gray,  many-windowed 
structure  of  the  New  Post-Office,  and  held  out 
his  hand  to  another  gentleman,  who  was  pass- 
jig  him  unnoticed. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  Wainwright !  "  said  Mr. 
Spring.  "  What  are  you  doing  in  a  place  like 
New  York  ? " 

"  I  thought  I  would  come  over  and  look 
about  a  little,"  said  the  gentleman  thus  ad 
dressed. 


91.2743. 


2  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

This  latter  speaker  was,  perhaps,  in  his 
twei^tv-iixth  \y€ar;t -*:  He  was  of  middle  height 
arid,  .compact, build*;  Ke..was  extremely  blond  ; 
^r}e?ftidustiche:sfhaai/i'g.hj:s  serious  mouth  was 
even  a  shade  lighter  than  his  light  hair.  His 
features  were  all  strong  and  regular,  but  each 
was  so  stamped  with  gravity  and  composure 
that  you  somehow  thought  of  him  as  a  per 
son  eminently  quiet  and  reputable  before  you 
observed  that  he  was  also  handsome.  His 
eyes  were  blue  and  calm,  and  their  clearness 
of  coloring  sometimes  gave  the  impression  of 
coldness  besides.  He  was  dressed  with  the 
peculiar  grace  of  all  well-attired  Englishmen, 
which  is  another  way  of  saying  that  his  clothes 
fitted  him  faultlessly  and  yet  looked  as  if  they 
had  received  only  the  most  transient  attention 
on  the  part  of  their  wearer.  Mr.  Clinton 
Wainwright  was  not  an  Englishman  ;  but  to 
record  this  fact  is  like  casually  mentioning 
the  foreign  origin  of  some  vegetable  growth 
which  we  have  seen  for  years  prosperously 
domesticated.  He  had  lived  a  long  time  in 
England,  though  American  by  birth.  His 
sympathies,  as  the  phrase  goes,  were  entirely 
with  the  mother  country.  Affairs  relating  to 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  3 

a  large  inheritance  from  a  deceased  kinsman 
had  brought  him  across  the  ocean.  He  meant 
that  his  sojourn  here  should  not  exceed  three 
months  at  the  most.  He  expected  to  be  a 
little  amused  and  a  great  deal  bored  by  the 
trip,  but  the  financial  reasons  why  he  should 
take  it  had  of  late  grown  imperative.  It  cost 
him  an  effort,  however,  to  go  at  all.  He  had 
not  realized,  until  the  hour  came  for  starting, 
how  his  dislike  of  things  transatlantic  had 
gradually  struck  deeper  roots  as  years  went 
on.  This  morning,  when  his  meeting  with 
Mr.  Townsend  Spring  occurred,  it  was  scarcely 
two  days  since  he  had  quitted  the  steamer. 
He  said  as  much  to  his  companion,  who  at 
once  responded,  - 

"  I  suppose  you  've  been  busy,  thus  far,  in 
looking  up  your  relations." 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Wainwright.  "  Except  a 
fourth  cousin  or  two,  I  have  no  relations  leff. 
Our  direct  line,  as  one  might  say,  threatens  to 
become  extinct  with  myself." 

"  By  Jove,  I  hope  not,"  said  Spring,  with  a 
full  laugh.  Then  he  shook  his  head,  and 
added,  "  I  'm  sure  there  is  n't  much  chance  of 
that.  The  way  you  noticed  all  the  pretty  girls 


4  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

last  summer  in  Switzerland  meant  that  you  'd 
never  die  a  bachelor.  And  I  don't  forget, 
either,  how  some  of  the  pretty  girls  noticed 
you." 

"  You  're  very  good,  really,"  said  Wain- 
wright.  He  spoke,  as  he  always  spoke,  with 
what  we  call  a  broad  accent,  but  there  was 
now  the  least  hint  of  a  sarcastic  drawl  in  his 
tones.  He  thrust  a  hand  into  each  verti 
cal  side-pocket  of  his  loose  trousers,  till  the 
scant  front  of  his  cutaway  morning  coat  gave 
the  effect  of  a  skirtless  jacket.  He  stared  at 
Spring  with  a  sort  of  blank  mildness.  He 
considered  him  quite  a  dreadful  creature.  Last 
summer  he  had  interfered  most  jarringly  with 
the  poetry  of  the  Alps  and  glaciers,  but  now 
he  seemed  in  good  harmony  with  the  raw 
smartness  of  an  American  thoroughfare.  Wain- 
wright  had  known  a  fellow  something  like  him, 
who  had  been  in  his  own  year  at  Oxford. 
True,  the  refinements  of  association  had 
smoothed  away  some  of  his  co-disciple's  bar 
barisms.  But  Spring  stood  forth  at  all  times 
in  bald,  immoderate  crudity. 

"  It 's  lucky  I  came  across  you,"  now  said 
Mr.  Spring,  with  fine    consciousness  that   he 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  5 

was  deepening  a  past  favorable  opinion.  "I  '11 
put  you  down  at  the  Metropolitan  Club.  It 's 
the  biggest  and  finest  club  in  the  country  ; 
it 's  up  to  anything  you  've  got  in  England,  / 
think." 

"  Ah  ?  "  said  Wainwright,  whose  satire  was 
sometimes  stealthy,  but  never  uncivil,  and 
whose  good  breeding  was  known  by  his  friends 
to  have  survived  every  sort  of  social  test.  "  It 
must  be  a  very  fine  club." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  rattled  on  Spring.  "  I  know 
you  '11  say  so,  too,  when  you  've  seen  the  Met 
ropolitan."  He  was  a  man  not  over  two  and 
thirty.  He  had  a  thick-set  figure  and  a  bluff, 
florid  face,  with  that  bluish  tinge  about  either 
plump  cheek  which  is  said  to  denote  vinous 
dinners  and  late  revels.  But  his  small  eyes 
twinkled  freshly,  and  his  frame  and  move 
ments  bespoke  an  unimpaired  fund  of  health. 
He  had  an  immense  lemon-colored  mustache, 
that  quite  hid  his  mouth,  making  two  bulging 
ovals  on  each  side  of  it,  where  the  coarse, 
glossy  hairs  met  in  a  curved  point  at  either 
end.  His  dress  was  modish,  with  a  dapper 
dandyism  in  the  make  and  pattern  of  its  vivid 
plaids.  He  wore  a  cravat  of  crimson  satin. 


6  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

sprinkled  with  large  white  sprays,  like  wall 
paper,  and  pierced  with  a  scarf-pin  that  was  a 
jockey's  cap  and  riding-whip  joined  together 
in  a  sort  of  golden  arabesque.  "  But  I  'm 
going  to  do  more  for  you  than  put  you  down 
there  at  the  club,"  Mr.  Spring  now  continued. 
"  I  'm  going  to  make  you  come  and  see  my 
wife." 

"I  shall  be  most  happy  to  come,"  said  Wain- 
wright,  with  prompt  courtesy. 

''There  's  a  good  deal  going  on  just  now," 
proceeded  his  companion.  "  We  can  make 
things  rather  jolly  for  you,  if  you  want ;  we 
can  show  you  about.  Fanny  has  n't  forgotten 
you  ;  she  still  talks  of  you  every  now  and  then ; 
she  was  always  death  on  you  English  chaps. 
....  Hold  up  a  second  ;  I  '11  give  you  a  card. 
Here  it  is,  ....  No.  -  -  West  Thirty-Fifth 
Street.  You  can  pop  in  on  us  whenever  you 
please."  Mr.  Spring  here  produced  an  ornate 
wallet  of  Russian  leather,  bearing  a  gilt  mono 
gram  of  his  initials.  Then,  after  giving  Wain- 
wright  the  card,  he  added,  "You  '11  excuse  me, 
old  fellow,  if  I  hurry  right  off.  The  Street 's 
.n  a  kind  of  flurry  to-day,  and  I  've  got  to  keep 
my  wits  about  me.  Ever  so  glad  to  have  met 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  J 

you,     Don't  forget,  now,  to  give  us  a  call  as 
soon  as  you  can  manage." 

Away  darted  Mr.  Spring,  leaving  his  hearer 
_  quite  willing  to  agree  with  him  that  the  street 
was  in  a  remarkable  flurry.  Wainwright  did 
not  perceive  the  usual  idiomatic  allusion  to 
WaL  Street,  although  vaguely  aware  that 
Town  send  Spring  was  a  stock-broker.  An 
extraordinary  violence  and  confusion  seemed 
reigning  in  Broadway.  The  liveliest  bustle  of 
London  thoroughfares  did  not  surpass  it.  He 
had  just  come  from  his  banker,  and  he  was 
now  returning  to  his  hotel.  During  the  long 
walk  that  followed,  Wainwright  decided  that 
he  would  call  upon  Mrs.  Spring.  He  could 
not  go  that  evening,  for  he  was  engaged  to 
dine  with  his  banker  ;  but  he  would  go,  never 
theless,  hereafter.  He  had  liked  Mrs.  Spring 
in  Switzerland.  She  had  been  the  first  Amer 
ican  lady  to  whom  he  had  ever  felt  attracted  ; 
indeed,  she  had  been  the  first  whose  acquaint 
ance  he  had  ever  cared  to  seek.  Till  now,  he 
had  believed  her  delightfully  exceptional  among 
ler  countrywomen,  but  of  late  this  impres 
sion  had  changed  ;  he  began  to  realize  the  im 
portance  of  his  mistake.  As  he  now  passed 


8  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

along  Fifth  Avenue,  noting  the  brown-stone 
prosperity  of  its  high-stooped  mansions,  the 
glimpses  of  sumptuous  drapery  at  the  plate- 
glass  windows,  the  occasional  porcelain  jardi 
niere  or  costly  bit  of  bronze,  that  suggested 
richer  luxuries  lying  beyond  them,  he  was  also 
sensible  of  a  similar  surprise  regarding  many 
of  the  ladies  whom  he  met.  He  found  him 
self  perpetually  reminded  of  Mrs.  Spring,  and 
perpetually  made  to  feel  that  he  was  a  very 
long  distance  away  from  London.  He  had 
never  been  to  Paris  ;  his  Swiss  trip  had  been 
his  only  experience  of  the  Continent  ;  he  was 
about  as  "  insular  "  a  person  as  twenty  youth 
ful  years  of  residence  in  England  are  com 
monly  able  to  produce.  For  this  reason,  the 
feminine  figures  that  now  passed  him  seemed 
often  distinguished  by  a  delicacy  and  elegance 
that  appealed  with  fascinating  novelty  to  his 
sense  of  beauty  and  refinement.  It  is  safe  to 
say  that  Wainwright  had  expected  uncouth- 
ness  and  vulgarity  everywhere.  It  must  be 
Lold  of  him  at  once,  as  a  matter  of  pure  jus 
tice,  that  he  had  arrived  in  New  York  with 
the  feelings  neither  of  a  snob  nor  a  prig  ;  that 
he  was  the  sort  of  young  gentleman  who  musl 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  9 

fairly  and  honestly  earn  the  title  of  a  very 
good  fellow,  no  matter  in  what  circle  of  soci 
ety  fate  should  cast  him  ;  but  that  he  had 
taken  the  tint  of  certain  surrounding  beliefs 
as  naturally  as  water  reflects  sky.  He  bad  had 
no  doubts  whatever  on  the  subject  of  Amer 
ica  being  as  small  nationally  as  it  was  large 
geographically.  He  had  moved  among  a  set 
of  English  people  who  very  rarely  take  the 
trouble  even  to  sneer  at  this  country  ;  they 
were  of  the  sort  who  remember  only  incident 
ally  that  this  is  the  place  the  Cunard  steamers 
make  for  when  not  sailing  eastward.  They 
belonged  distinctly  to  the  aristocracy.  Wain- 
wright's  mother,  who  had  died  while  he  was 
at  Oxford,  had  married  a  second  time  in  Eng 
land,  and  the  young  man's  step-father  had 
been  nearly  related  to  an  earl.  Wainwright 
had  been  accepted  at  patrician  firesides  with 
out  a  single  fastidious  murmur.  His  Ameri 
can  birth  was  almost  ignored,  or  at  best  re 
membered  against  him  with  lenient  grace,  like 
the  peccadilloes  of  some  deceased  kinsman. 

He  dressed  himself  for  the  dinner  with  his 
banker,  this  evening,  in  a  good  deal  of  curious 
expectancy.  He  had  had  several  sharp  sur- 


10  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

prises  already,  and  he  was  now  prepared  for 
several  more.  The  banker  himself,  Mr.  Bo- 
denstein,  had  seemed  to  him  a  very  charming 
gentleman.  Mr.  Bodenstein  was  of  German 
birth  ;  he  spoke  English  with  a  slight  accent. 
He  was  extremely  bald,  had  bright-red  side- 
whiskers,  a  fat,  shapeless  nose,  and  thick,  loose 
lips.  But  his  double-breasted  coat  was  of 
speckless  broadcloth  and  perfect  fit ;  he  car 
ried  gold  eye-glasses,  which  he  would  some 
times  wave  gracefully  while  speaking.  He 
could  talk  with  sound  sense  on  numberless 
subjects  ;  he  was  famous  as  a  shrewd  financier, 
and  owned  a  superb  gallery  of  paintings  ;  he 
had  one  palatial  home  on  Fifth  Avenue  and 
another  at  Newport ;  he  was  a  member  of  the 
Jockey  Club,  and  an  enthusiastic  patron  of  the 
turf.  He  had  no  library  worth  the  name,  but 
he  read  men  and  newspapers  instead,  and  both 
with  careful  thoroughness.  He  had  greatly 
bettered  himself,  in  a  social  sense,  some  fifteen 
years  ago,  by  marrying  a  beautiful  and  charm 
ing  lady,  of  fine  Knickerbocker  lineage.  His 
wealth  was  enormous,  and  his  hospitalities 
were  princely. 

The    hour   at  which    he    had    asked    Wain 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  \  \ 

wright  to  dine  with  him  was  seven  o'clock. 
Our  young  Anglo-American  felt  a  lively  thrill 
of  surprise  on  hearing  that  anybody  in  his 
native  country  dined  at  seven.  He  had  sup 
posed  two  in  the  afternoon  to  be  a  much  more 
probable  hour. 


IT. 

ilAINWRIGHT  had  himself  driven  in 
a  cab  from  his  hotel  to  Mr.  Boden- 
stein's  Fifth  Avenue  mansion.  One 
butler  opened  the  door  for  him  ;  another  re 
moved  his  wraps,  with  skillful  expedition.  The 
young  man  was  then  ushered  from  a  hall  of 
noble  proportions  into  a  suite  of  drawing- 
rooms,  grander  still.  Everywhere  gleamed  a 
quiet  splendor  of  ornamentation,  ruled  by  the 
most  discreet  taste.  Mr.  Bodenstein,  looking 
uglier,  but  quite  as  gentlemanly,  in  his  snowy 
neck-tie  and  faultless  evening  dress,  came  for 
ward  with  outstretched  hand.  He  at  once 
presented  Wainwright  to  his  wife.  Mrs.  Bo 
denstein  was  young,  blonde,  and  beautiful.  She 
wore  a  dress  of  sky-blue  velvet,  cut  high  in 
the  neck,  and  studded  with  buttons,  each  of 
which  was  a  large  diamond.  She  had  a  fril" 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  13 

of  fluted  lace  about  her  throat,  from  which  her 
delicate  head  seemed  to  break  forth  like  a 
flower.  She  struck  Wainwright  as  a  most  en 
chanting  person.  He  had  ceased  to  be  merely 
surprised ;  he  was  bewildered.  It  seemed  to 
him  at  this  moment  as  if  he  could  not  possi 
bly  be  in  New  York.  While  Mrs.  Bodenstein 
was  uttering  sentences  to  him  that  meant 
nothing  but  were  spoken  with  a  most  bewitch 
ing  ease  and  grace,  Wainwright  observed  that 
here  and  there  about  the  room  were  seated 
ladies  and  gentlemen  whose  postures  and 
costumes  bore  a  distinctive  elegance.  In  his 
rapid  eye-sweep,  he  saw  a  slim  girl  with  a 
robe  of  vapory  rose-color,  and  a  face  like  tinted 
porcelain ;  she  was  talking  to  a  gentleman 
whose  expansive  shirt-bosom  and  lustrous, 
pointed  shoes  gave  him  the  air  of  somebody 
who  might  have  lounged  about  a  select  Lon 
don  club.  Poor  Wainwright  could  not  under 
stand  matters  at  all.  This  was,  somehow,  not 
America.  He  had  come  prepared  to  be  as 
tonished,  but  in  a  radically  different  way. 

"I  think  everybody  is  here,"  Mrs.  Boden 
stein  presently  said  to  him.  She  had  a  dimple 
in  either  cheek,  which  waited  upon  her  fre 


14  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

quent  smiles  with  a  delicious  punctuality.  She 
now  smiled  her  very  brightest,  and  the  dimples 
looked  like  two  deep  little  creases  in  two  rose 
leaves.  "  I  shall  ask  you  to  go  in  with  me," 
she  proceeded,  and  slipped  her  hand  into 
Wainwright's  arm.  He  felt  instantly  that  he 
was  the  honored  guest  of  the  evening.  They 
moved  toward  the  dining-room  together,  and  a 
rustling  train  of  followers  promptly  succeeded 
them.  Wainwright  soon  found  himself  seated 
at  Mrs.  Bodenstein's  right,  before  a  table  that 
glittered  with  glass  and  silver,  and  bore  in  its 
centre  a  superb  flowery  embellishment.  On 
his  left  sat  a  young  girl,  to  whom  Mrs.  Bo- 
denstein  presented  him,  while  the  oysters  were 
being  eaten  and  the  white  wine  was  being 
poured.  "This  is  my  cousin,  Miss  Spuyten- 
duyvil,"  said  Mrs.  Bodenstein,  with  gentle  so 
ciality,  "and  I  am  sure  that  you  will  get  on 
very  nicely  together." 

Wainwright  looked  at  his  new  acquaintance, 
and  asked  himself  what  grounds  her  appear 
ance  presented  for  their  future  harmonious 
intercourse.  Miss  Spuytenduyvil  had  a  pale, 
narrow  face,  with  small,  dim  eyes,  over  which 
the  lids  would  sometimes  droop  in  almost 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  I  5 

somnolent  languor.  But  her  companion  soon 
found  that  she  was  neither  sleepy  nor  indiffer 
ent.  A  strong  interest  for  fresh  observation 
and  discovery  had  of  late  sprung  up  within 
Wainwright,  It  was  a  feeling  whose  growth 
could  be  marked  by  hours ;  it  had  been  devel 
oped  through  a  series  of  mild  shocks.  He  had 
found  himself  suddenly  transformed  from  a 
sort  of  dispassionate  pilgrim  into  a  note-maker 
of  vigilant  zeal.  He  could  ill  account  for  the 
change  ;  he  had  a  faint  sense  of  its  being  only 
half  resultant  from  mere  piqued  curiosity  ; 
there  seemed  a  furtive  warmth  behind  it,  whose 
just  measure  and  origin  he  was  destined  after 
ward  to  gauge  and  value.  It  was  not  yet  time 
for  Wainwright  to  discover  that  he  could  do 
anything  so  unforeseen  as  to  feel  fondly  to 
ward  the  country  of  his  birth. 

Miss  Spuytenduyvil  had  a  thin,  rather  harsh 
voice,  which  aptly  suited  the  occasional  wintry 
flicker  of  her  smile.  Wainwright  found  him 
self  watching  her  with  studious  intentness. 
He  had  formed  an  idea  that  she  might  be  typ 
ical  and  representative  after  some  peculiar 
fashion,  but  he  was  already  in  much  doubt  as 
to  whether  she  would  be  agreeably  so. 


1 6  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  met  very  few  Ameri 
can  ladies,"  said  Miss  Spuytenduyvil,  opening 
conversation. 

"  I  had  met  only  one,"  replied  Wainwright, 
"before  coming  to  this  country." 

Miss  Spuytenduyvil  was  about  to  touch  a 
glass  of  ice-water  to  her  pale,  cold  lips.  But 
she  set  down  the  goblet  before  doing  so,  and 
asked  with  direct  emphasis,  — 

"  And  pray  who  was  she  ?  A  New  York 
lady  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Wainwright.  "  Her  name  is 
Mrs.  Townsend  Spring.  Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  the  young  girl.  She  now 
drank  her  ice-water.  Then  she  fastened  a 
little  clinking  bracelet  on  one  of  her  spare, 
white  arms.  "  I  know  whom  you  mean,  how 
ever." 

"  I  think  her  very  nice,"  said  Wainwright. 
"  I  'm  sure  you  would,  too,  if  you  knew  her." 

Miss  Spuytenduyvil  gave  a  chilly  little  rattle 
of  laughter.  "  There  is  very  small  chance  of 
my  knowing  her,"  she  said,  with  prim  crisp- 
ness.  Then  she  bent  her  puffed  and  ringleted 
head  quite  low  over  a  raw  oyster. 

Wainwright  wondered  if  he  had   stumbled 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE,  I  7 

upon  any  awkward  family  quarrel.  "  Good 
gracious !  "  he  said,  "  I  hope  you  don't  mean 
that  Mrs.  Spring  is  some  cousin  with  whom 
you  have  had  a  falling  out.  That  would  be  a 
most  unlucky  mishap  for  me,  truly  !  " 

His  companion  gave  a  start,  and  looked  at 
him  with  a  very  shocked  expression.  "  Cous 
in!"  she  repeated,  and  threw  back  her  head 
with  another  faint,  mirthless  laugh.  Wain- 
wright  thought  he  had  seldom  seen  a  more 
unpleasantly  arrogant  look.  "  I  merely  meant," 
explained  Miss  Spuytenduyvil,  "that  the  lady 
whom  you  mentioned  is  not  in  my  set." 

"  Oh,"  said  Wainwright.  A  light  had  be 
gun  to  break  upon  him.  He  perceived  that 
this  young  lady  was  indeed  a  typical  person. 
But  her  type  struck  him,  just  at  this  moment, 
as  the  most  alarmingly  unexpected  thing  he 
could  possibly  have  encountered.  "  Pray  tell 
ue,"  he  continued,  in  the  voice  of  one  who 
puts  a  most  serious  question,  "what  does  your 
last  phrase  mean  ?  I  assure  you,  I  ask  purely 
for  information." 

Miss  Spuytenduyvil  had  lost  her  haughty 
demeanor.  She  leaned  quite  affably  toward 
Wainwright ;  he  saw,  now,  that  her  eyes  were 


2 


1 8  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

of  a  slaty,  opaque  hue,  with  only  a  speck  of 
dull  light  in  each.  She  was  smiling,  and  he 
concluded  that  he  did  not  like  her  smile  any 
better  than  her  laugh. 

"  I  forgot,"  she  said,  "  how  ignorant  you 
English  people  are  about  everything  Amer 
ican." 

"  But  I  am  an  American,"  said  Wainvvright. 

"  Oh,  true.  Yet  you  have  lived  so  long  in 
England.  I  meant  that  this  Mrs.  Spring  is 
taken  up  by  a  few  of  the  best  people,  but  then 
....  how  shall  I  say  it  ?  .  .  .  .  well,  she  is 
nobody  at  all." 

"I  thought  her  decidedly  somebody,"  ob 
jected  Wainwright,  with  mild  humor. 

"  Oh,  she  is  loud  enough  ;  she  makes  her 
self  felt.  She  came  from  the  country,  some 
where.  It  is  dreadful  to  see  that  sort  of  per 
son  getting  about  everywhere."  Here  Miss 
Spuytenduyvil  shrugged  her  slim  shoulders. 
"  Really,"  she  went  on,  "you  compel  me  to 
be  very  explicit.  Not  that  I  object  to  being 
explicit  in  these  matters.  It  is  n't  thought 
good  taste,  I  know.  But  then  I  am  very  in 
dignant  against  our  modern  society." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  take  pity  on  the  igno- 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  19 

ranee  of  a  fellow  countryman,"  said  Wainwright, 
with  artful  humility.  He  had  secretly  made 
up  his  mind  that  Miss  Spuytenduyvil  was  one 
of  the  most  disagreeable  young  persons  whom 
he  had  ever  met. 

"  Are  you  so  very  ignorant  of  all  American 
ways  ?  "  she  asked,  with  one  of  her  smiles, 
that  had  in  it  the  hardness  of  a  penknife- 
blade. 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  am,"  he  laughed. 

"  But  you  surely  supposed  that  we  had 
grades  of  society  here." 

Wainwright  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  I 
confess,"  he  presently  said,  "  that  I  had  not 
given  the  subject  any  thought  whatever." 

Miss  Spuytenduyvil  took  the  least  sip  of 
her  white  wine.  She  had  begun  to  look  sar 
castically  amused.  "  Then  you  want  me  to  go 
on  explaining?"  she  said. 

"  If  you  will  be  so  kind." 

A  gentle  hum  of  talk  had  now  risen  on  all 
sides  ;  the  air  was  tenderly  fragrant  with  the 
scent  of  tea-rose  and  violet.  Wainwright  let 
his  eyes  wander  over  the  broad  table,  and  as 
sured  himself  that  no  feast  could  have  been 
ordered  with  more  quiet  magnificence  ;  he 


2O  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

looked  at  the  row  of  rich-clad  ladies,  some 
lovely  as  were  the  roses  themselves ;  he 
marked  the  noiseless  attendants  glide  over  the 
soft  carpets.  He  lifted  his  gaze,  and  saw  an 
arras  of  crimson  velvet  drooping  from  a  gilt 
rod,  like  the  tapestries  in  pictures  of  old 
castle-chambers  ;.  not  far  away  was  a  deep  al 
cove-window,  whose  panes  were  colored  with 
mediaeval  effect,  and  here  a  tropic  plant  reared 
from  the  dimness  its  huge,  dark,  glossy  fans. 
Overhead,  the  ceiling  was  crossed  and  corniced 
with  massive  lines  of  mellow-toned  Gothic 
woodwork.  Wainwright  silently  wondered. 
Here,  in  a  republican  land,  he  found  himself 
confronted  by  traits  of  the  most  aristocratic 
significance.  And  Miss  Spuytenduyvil,  with 
her  finical  daintiness,  her  mincing  artificiality, 
well  suited  these  undemocratic  surroundings. 
Wainwright  had  a  fancy,  as  he  watched  her, 
that  with  some  changes  of  language  and  cos 
tume  she  had  existed  a  century  or  so  before, 
among  the  high-shoed  and  powdered  ladies 
who  aired  their  brocades  at  Bourbon  courts. 
Her  next  words  were  measured  and  deliber 
ative.  "  It  is  a  very  hard  matter  to  explain,' 
she  said.  "People  don't  usually  talk  about  it 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  21 

at  all.  One  usually  passes  over  the  whole  sub 
ject.  That  is  thought  to  be  the  wisest  plan. 
I  regret  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Wainwright,  that 
those  who  should  take  the  most  pains  to  keep 
our  best  society  in  a  select  state  are  often  the 
most  careless  about  doing  so.  New  people 
are  buying  their  way  in  every  year,  —  every 
month.  It 's  very  sad,  but  it 's  true." 

"  But  what  should  make  it  the  best  so 
ciety  ?  "  asked  Wainwright. 

Miss  Spuytenduyvil  looked  slightly  peevish. 
"  Dear  me,  what  makes  anything  anything, 
Mr.  Wainwright  ?  " 

"Oh,  now  you  are  plunging  into  generali 
ties.  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  a  very  patient 
expositor.  Or  am  I  too  unmatured  a  pupil  ? 
What  I  meant  was  "  — 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  meant,"  interrupted 
the  young  lady,  with  quiet  sharpness.  "You 
wanted  to  know  whether  wealth  does  not  de 
cide  everything  with  us.  But  I  assure  you  it 
ought  not  to  do  so.  Of  course  there  might  be 
exceptional  cases,  just  as  there  are  in  Eng- 
and.  But  here,  as  there,  the  chief  qualifica 
tion  for  moving  in  high  circles  should  be  to 
have  good  birth." 


22  A    GENTLEMAN   OF  LEISURE. 

Wainwright  looked  very  puzzled.  "  But 
everybody  here  is  supposed  to  be  born  alike," 
he  said. 

"Supposed  to  be!"  echoed  his  companion, 
with  an  accent  of  satire  on  the  first  word. 
Miss  Spuytenduyvil  now  turned  her  sedate 
face  full  upon  her  neighbor.  She  had  height 
ened  her  lean  shoulders  a  little,  and  was  bend 
ing  toward  Wainwright  with  an  expression 
which  made  him  feel  how  important  she  con 
sidered  that  her  next  remark  must  prove. 
"  Pray  let  me  ask  you  a  question,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  willingly." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  Mr.  Bodenstein  re 
quested  you  to  dine  with  him  to-day  ?  " 

Wainwright  reflected  for  a  moment.  "  Upon 
my  word,"  he  said,  "  I  know  only  one  reason  : 
I  had  selected  him  as  my  banker." 

"As  if  that  were  any  reason!"  softly  ex 
claimed  Miss  Spuytenduyvil. 

"I  have  not  the  remotest  idea  of  any  other. 
If  there  is  another,  I  wish  you  would  enlighten 
me  concerning  it." 

"  Enlighten  you  !  Why,  good  gracious  !  you 
must  know  that  you  are  a  Wainwright  !  " 

"  I  have  generally  been  under  that  impres 
sion." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  23 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  you  don't  understand  !  I  mean 
one  of  the  Wainwrights.  Everybody  knows 
your  family,  here." 

"  But  I  have  n't  any  family.  They  are  all 
dead." 

"  That  does  n't  make  the  slightest  differ 
ence.  "They  are  remembered  ;  they  were 
among  oar  leading  people  ;  they  ....  how 
shall  I  put  it  ?  You  want  one  to  be  so  dread 
fully  exact.  Do  you  know,  we  are  distantly 
related  to  each  other  ?  " 

"  I  had  not  an  idea  of  it." 

"  Oh,  yes.  A  Wainwright  once  married  a 
Spuytenduyvil.  You  help  to  make  a  branch 
of  our  genealogical  tree." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  have  rendered  you  any 
such  material  assistance.  Is  that  why  Mr. 
Bodenstein  invited  me  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  You  have  a  genealogical  tree  of 
your  own." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  said  Wainwright,  with  a 
momentary  smile  of  keen  amusement.  "  I  was 
unprepared  to  find  any  such  species  of  vegeta 
tion  on  these  shores.  It 's  a  very  different 
thing  from  the  primeval  hemlock  that  Long 
fellow  tells  us  about,  is  n't  it  ?  " 


24  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISC7XE. 

"  Oh,  now  you  are  sneering  at  this  country. 
Well,  you  will  be  in  the  fashion  there.  So 
many  people  do  it."  Here  Miss  Spuytenduy- 
vil  straightened  herself,  with  an  air  of  almost 
forbidding  severity.  "  For  my  part,  I  never 
do  it.  I  am  too  proud  of  having  ancestors 
who  have  helped  to  make  the  country  what 
it  is." 

This  struck  Wainwright  as  a  rather  clever 
speech.  He  had  just  begun  to  wonder  whether 
his  companion  had  not  an  undercurrent  of 
real  shrewdness  hidden  beneath  her  fanatical 
gentility.  But  at  this  moment  Mrs.  Boden- 
stein,  seated,  as  we  know,  on  his  other  side, 
claimed  his  attention  by  one  of  those  remarks 
which  may  reach  us  clad  in  such  facile  expres 
sion  as  to  win  our  lenient  disregard  of  their 
being  platitudes.  Wainwright  soon  discovered 
that  his  hostess  was,  in  her  way,  a  mistress  of 
platitude.  He  found,  after  a  long  talk  with 
this  lady,  that  her  command  of  commonplace 
amounted  to  a  distinct  talent.  She  was  de- 
ightful  to  watch,  with  her  ideal  complexion, 
her  sweet,  liquid  eyes,  and  her  phenomenal 
Dimples.  But  when  you  had  separated  what 
she  said  from  her  winsome,  mellifluous  man 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2$ 

ner  of  saying  it,  you  felt  that  the  division 
brought  about  a  pitiable  result.  It  was  quite 
impossible  to  define  her  except  in  negatives  ; 
after  you  had  concluded  that  she  was  low- 
voiced,  of  faultless  breeding  and  exceptionally 
handsome,  there  seemed  to  remain  an  incal 
culable  number  of  things  that  she  was  not. 
Miss  Spuytenduyvil  became  glaringly  charac 
teristic  when  contrasted  with  her.  The  latter 
was  sitting  quite  silent  and  unoccupied,  when 
Wainwright  again  turned  toward  her,  after  his 
long  resultless  talk  with  Mrs.  Bodenstein  had 
ended.  She  looked  colder  and  more  self- 
poised  than  ever.  She  had  a  little  block  of 
Neapolitan  ice  before  her,  but  she  had  eaten 
only  the  white  portion  of  it,  leaving  the  re 
mainder  to  melt  away  in  pink  and  green  ruin 
on  her  enameled  plate.  It  struck  Wainwright 
that  she  might,  perhaps,  have  eschewed  these 
vivid  colors  as  representing  too  warm  a  species 
of  diet  for  her  curiously  frigid  temperament. 
While  the  odd  fancy  brought  a  smile  to  his 
lips  —  and  a  smile  was  rather  rare  with  him, 
though  it  always  threw  a  sparkle  up  into  his 
liiiet  blue  eyes  when  it  came  —  Miss  Spuy 
tenduyvil  addressed  him  in  her  slow,  clean-cut 
way. 


26  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  You  have  been  having  a  very  long  talk 
with  my  cousin,"  she  said.  "  What  have  you 
been  talking  about  ?  " 

"  I  really  can't  tell  you,"  answered  Wain- 
wright,  after  a  brief  pause. 

"  Oh,"  said  Miss  Spuytenduyvil,  with  rigid 
demureness,  "  then  you  have  not  been  getting 
any  new  information  ?  I  suppose  you  think 
my  cousin  charming  ;  everybody  does.  She 
was  a  great  success  before  she  became  Mrs. 
Bodenstein." 

"  And  is  that  title  a  guarantee  for  still 
greater  success  ?  "  asked  Wainwright,  who 
found  himself  naturally  dropping  into  the  in 
terrogative  again,  before  this  placid,  matter- 
of-fact  curtness  that  once  more  assailed  him. 

Miss  Spuytenduyvil  made  a  long,  slow  nod, 
that  was,  somehow,  like  a  fiat.  "  Of  course," 
she  said.  "  My  cousin  was  a  Miss  Amster 
dam."  Then  she  gave  one  of  her  laughs,  that 
sounded  to  Wainwright  as  though  there  was 
the  click  of  dice  in  it.  "  Truly,  it  seems  so 
odd  for  any  one  not  to  know  about  these  things. 
Mr.  Bodenstein  is  a  perfect  gentleman,  and 
immensely  wealthy.  It  was  considered  a  very 
fine  match  for  Kate.  I  was  quite  a  little  gir' 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2J 

then.  I  remember  that  I  disapproved  of  it. 
But  I  have  since  become  reconciled." 

"Oh,  that  is  very  fortunate,"  said  Wain- 
wright,  with  a  certain  non-committal  amiabil 
ity  that  may  or  may  not  have  sheathed  con 
siderable  irony.  He  had  a  droll,  momentary 
vision  of  a  little  pale-faced  Miss  Spuytenduy- 
vil,  in  short  frocks,  with  budding  theories 
about  her  valuable  Dutch  birth. 

"  I  hope  you  have  enjoyed  your  conversation 
with  my  cousin,"  said  the  young  lady,  breaking 
a  rather  long  silence. 

"Oh,  yes,  very  much,"  replied  Wainwright, 
who  knew  of  nothing  less  ordinary  to  say. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Miss  Spuytenduyvil, 
with  a  candor  that  had  not  a  hint  of  flirtation 
in  its  bald  plainness,  "  I  have  decidedly  missed 
you." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  he  returned.  "  I  thought 
you  had  another  gentleman  to  talk  with." 
And  at  once  his  eye  scanned  an  elderly  man, 
with  a  yellow,  sinewy  face  and  a  bristly,  red 
-noustache,  who  was  talking  to  a  lady  on  his 
other  side,  saying  something  that  made  her 
laugh,  and  laughing  himself  while  he  did  so. 

Miss  Spuytenduyvil  gave  a  toss  of  the  head 


28  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

In  any  one  else  it  would  have  been  a  quick 
motion.  In  her  it  was  as  prolonged  as  the 
spreading  of  a  peacock's  tail. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  in  very  low  tones,  and 
with  a  brief,  cruel  sneer,  "  that  is  Mr.  Bing- 
hamton.  He  took  me  in,  as  you  saw.  It 
was  either  very  unkind  or  very  forgetful  in  my 
cousin  to  let  him  do  so.  I  dislike  him  exceed 
ingly.  I  have  never  met  him  before  this  even 
ing,  but  I  dislike  him,  all  the  same.  I  have 
heard  about  him  ;  I  know  who  he  is.  He 
writes  for  newspapers  ;  he  is  an  Englishman, 
I  believe,  but  a  sort  of  adventurer.  He  is  rec 
ognized  ;  he  is  received  ;  he  is  considered  very 
clever,  I  am  told ;  but  nobody  knows  anything 
about  him,  except  that  he  gets  to  places." 

This  struck  Wainwright  as  the  very  high- 
tide  mark  of  Miss  Spuytenduyvil's  uncompro 
mising  snobbery.  He  burst  into  a  laugh  which 
he  felt  almost  reckless  about  having  inter 
preted  as  too  loud  for  civility  ;  and  just  then, 
at  a  signal  from  their  hostess,  all  the  ladies 
rose  to  leave  the  room. 

"  You  make  me  anxious  to  meet  this  Mr. 
Binghamton,"  said  Wainwright,  as  he  drew 
back  Miss  Spuytenduyvil's  chair,  and  stood 
Cor  a  moment  beside  her. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  29 

She  gave  one  of  her  neat,  metallic  smiles. 
"I  dare  say  I  have  shocked  you  by  some  of  my 
ideas,"  she  replied,  smoothing  the  folds  of  her 
dress  with  one  narrow,  frail  hand. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Wain w right,  laughing  again  ; 
"I  like  ideas." 

She  looked  at  him  closely  for  an  instant, 
with  her  steady,  rayless  eyes.  "  Very  few  peo 
ple  like  mine.  1  'm  not  popular.  I  don't  want 
to  be.  I  say  what  I  think  ;  I  show  my  dis 
likes,  and  I  have  a  good  many  dislikes.  But 
that  is  n't  so  much  my  fault  as  society's.  I 
am  a  person  with  a  quarrel  against  society.  I 
think  affairs  are  being  shamefully  mismanaged 
there,  and  I  insist  that  I  have  a  greater  right 
than  most  people  to  be  sorry  about  it." 

The  ladies  were  already  gliding  from  the 
room.  Miss  Spuytenduyvil  moved  away,  after 
this  speech,  and  Wainwright  saw,  as  she  was 
disappearing,  that  her  figure  had  so  bony  an 
angularity  as  to  make  the  fashionable  robe 
which  she  wore  sag  and  wrinkle  in  a  sort  of 
splendid  despair  that  it  should  fit  her  so  ill. 

As  the  gentlemen  again  took  their  seats, 
Wainwright  looked  about  him.  The  table  had 
lost  its  chief  source  of  genial  brilliancy  with 


30  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

the  departure  of  the  ladies.  A  darkness  had 
just  settled  upon  the  feast;  it  was  the  dark 
ness  of  modishly-tailored  broadcloth.  There 
had  followed  that  ceremonious  silence,  too, 
which  is  so  apt  to  result,  on  occasions  like 
this,  from  the  withdrawal  of  feminine  forms 
.ind  voices. 

Wainwright  sat  for  a  few  moments,  without 
addressing  a  word  to  any  one.  Indeed,  he  had 
the  traditional  reserve  of  the  country  in  which 
he  had  dwelt  so  long  ;  he  was  surrounded  by 
strangers.  At  the  same  time,  he  had  no  feel 
ing  of  awkwardness.  New  and  engrossing 
thoughts  occupied  him.  He  was  thinking  of 
Miss  Spuytenduyvil  ;  he  was  doing  more  ;  he 
was  ruminating  upon  the  extraordinary  and 
unknown  conditions  that  must  have  produced 
her  and  others  with  whom  he  saw  her  associ 
ated.  Was  this  the  America  which  had  famil 
iarized  itself  to  his  indifferent  ken,  while  over 
seas,  by  a  sort  of  robust  banner-waving  and  a 
noisy  declaration  of  liberty  and  equality  ior 
all  ?  Were  these  dainty  figures,  which  might 
have  bowed  in  a  Queen's  Drawing  Room  or 
lounged  at  a  London  -lub,  actually  Amer 
leans  ? 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  3  I 

Wainwright  was  still  looking  about  him. 
The  gentlemen  were  beginning  to  talk  to  each 
other,  with  a  quiet  and  careless  ease.  A  serv 
ant  had  supplied  him  with  a  cigar,  and  set 
a  waxen  taper  in  tempting  proximity  to  it. 
Other  cigars  were  being  lighted  from  other 
waxen  tapers,  at  right  and  left.  It  was  now 
that  Wainwright  for  the  first  time  experienced, 
by  reason  of  his  isolation,  a  slight  sense  of 
embarrassment.  But  a  touch  fell  upon  his 
shoulder  immediately  afterward.  He  looked 
round,  and  saw  Mr.  Boclenstein. 

"  I  want  to  present  you  to  Mr.  Binghamton," 
said  his  host. 

In  another  moment,  Wainwright  found  him 
self  shaking  hands  with  the  red-moustached, 
yellow-visaged  gentleman  whom  Miss  Spuy- 
tenduyvil  had  just  condemned  so  roundly. 


III. 

R.  BINGHAMTON  at  once  began  to 
talk.  He  had  a  little  reddish-hazel  eye, 
which  rarely  met  yours  for  more  than 
a  second  at  a  time.  He  spoke  with  a  very 
English  intonation,  and  with  galloping  rapidity. 
Sometimes  he  would  give  his  moustache  a  sud 
den  vigorous  pull,  as  though  he  were  correct- 
in""  it  for  some  misdemeanor.  He  was  Smok 
er 

ing  a  cigarette,  and  blowing  forth  most  of  the 
smoke  through  the  nostrils  of  his  small,  solid 
nose,  whose  end  took  an  impudent  upward 
curve. 

"  I  'm  tremendously  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr 
Wainwright,"  he  said.  "  Hear  you've  been 
living  on  the  other  side  for  an  age.  In  the 
old  country,  too,  as  we  Englishmen  say.  You 
don't  intend  to  stop  here  long,  I  'm  told.  But 
perhaps  you  '11  get  used  to  it  here,  and  like  it 
Let  me  present  Mr.  Carroll  Gansevoort." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  33 

Wainwright  now  shook  hands  with  a  young 
gentleman  of  slender,  shapely  figure,  dark, 
expressive  eyes,  and  hair  brushed  with  glossy 
neatness  from  either  side  of  an  exceedingly 
exact  parting.  Wainwright  had  seen  a  good 
many  young  Englishmen  who  looked,  when  in 
evening  dress,  very  much  like  Mr.  Gansevoort. 
The  latter  wore  a  large  gold  fob  pendant  from 
a  black  ribbon  under  his  low-cut  waistcoat, 
and  the  white  width  of  his  shirt-bosom  re 
vealed  but  a  single  stud,  made  of  one  fine 
pearl.  He  had  shoes  that  came  almost  to  a 
sharp  point  at  either  end,  and  shone  with  the 
effective  radiance  of  superfine  patent  leather. 
On  one  delicate  hand  was  a  seal  ring,  into 
which  a  crest  and  arms  had  been  graven  ;  on 
the  small  finger  of  the  other  hand  was  a  heavy 
gold  band,  in  which  sparkled  a  large  sunken 
diamond.  Mr.  Gansevoort  had  an  extremely 
lounging  manner  ;  the  muscles  of  his  tall, 
slight  frame  appeared  in  a  perpetual  state  of 
laxity.  He  sat  with  legs  crossed  one  moment, 
and  with  an  arm  thrown  over  the  back  of  his 
:hair  the  next.  He  was  smoking  a  cigar, 
which  he  transferred  from  hand  to  hand  in 
graceful  unrest.  He  was  always  graceful,  just 
3 


34  GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

as  he  was  always  restless.  But  it  promptly 
occurred  to  Wainwrighc  that  his  manner  was 
imitative,  factitious,  as  though  he  had  mod 
eled  it  after  some  admired  British  type. 
When  he  spoke,  which  he  at  once  did,  the 
English  pronunciation  was  so  perfectly  ren 
dered  in  his  speech  that  Wainwright,  with  his 
experienced  ear,  could  scarcely  tell  why  he 
should  not  feel  certain  that  Mr.  Gansevoort 
was  an  Englishman.  But  he  somehow  felt 
most  doubtful  on  that  point,  without  clearly 
being  able  to  explain  his  doubt. 

"  I  heard  Binghamton  say  that  you  had  just 
come  over,"  began  this  young  gentleman,  with 
a  civility  that  had  the  air  of  being  rather  sel 
dom  given.  "  You  must  have  got  awfully  used 
Vo  it  there  by  this  time." 

"  Oh,  yes/'  said  Wainwright,  "  I  am  very 
used  to  it." 

"  England's  such  an  enormously  jolly  place." 
continued  Mr.  Gansevoort.  "  This  country  is 
a  beastly  hole  in  comparison.  I  've  no  doubt 
you  think  so  already,  don't  you,  now  ? " 

Wainwright  started  as  this  last  question  was 
put  to  him.  "  No,  I  do  not,  really,"  he  said 
with  decision. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  35 

Mr.  Binghamton  broke  into  a  laugh.  "  Good ! " 
ne  exclaimed.  "  It  is  n't  a  beastly  hole  a  bit. 
Gansevoort,  here,  is  always  running  it  down." 

Mr.  Gansevoort  had,  by  this  time,  turned 
toward  some  one  on  his  other  side,  and  begun 
a  new  conversation.  Mr.  Binghamton  lowered 
his  voice  and  went  on  addressing  Wainwright. 
"  Try  a  glass  of  this  Burgundy,  won't  you  ? 
Yes?  That's  right.  Bodenstein 's  famous 
for  his  Burgundy  ;  well,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
no  one  ever  got  a  drop  of  bad  wine  in  this 
house.  He  has  a  chef,  too,  that  can't  be 
matched  anywhere,  even  in  Paris.  You  saw 
what  the  dinner  was.  That  is  the  way  he  al 
ways  does  these  things Your  health, 

Mr.  Wainwright  ;  may  you  take  a  liking  to 
your  mother  country." 

"  I  have  never  disliked  her,"  said  Wain 
wright,  drinking  some  of  his  wine.  "  But  I 
am  afraid  that  I  have  been  indifferent  to 
ber." 

Mr.  Binghamton  laughed  again.  His  tawny 
face  broke  into  little  wrinkles  when  he  laughed, 
making  him  look  jocose  even  to.  grotesque- 
ness.  "Bless  my  soul!"  he  said,  "it's  the 
fashion  to  be  that,  nowadays." 


36  A    GENTLEMAN    OP  LEISURE. 

"  I  did  not  know  it  was  the  fashion,"  replied 
Wainwright,  more  seriously  than  he  knew. 
"At  least,"  he  added,  "not  here." 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed.  But  it 's  all  terrible  non 
sense,  you  know.  Have  you  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing  as  an  Anglo-maniac  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  Well,  you  '11  see  a  few  specimens  quite 
soon.  Our  friend  Gansevoort  is  one.  I  think 
Gansevoort  would  consider  himself  disgraced 
if  he  wore  a  pair  of  trousers  or  carried  an  um 
brella  that  was  not  of  English  make." 

"  Truly  you  astonish  me  !  And  are  there 
many  people  in  this  country  who  resemble 
him?" 

Mr.  Binghamton  seemed  inclined  to  laugh 
again.  But,  instead,  he  blew  a  great  deal  of 
cigarette  smoke  through  his  odd  little  nose. 
"  There  is  a  large  clique  of  men  whose  mem 
bers  resemble  him.  For  instance,  most  of  his 
associates  are  cut  out  of  the  same  cloth.  But 
I  see  a  lot  of  people  who  take  very  different 
views.  I  go  into  half  a  dozen  sets,  you  know. 
I  'm  a  man  about  town.  By  Jove,  I  think  I 
know  more  of  what  New  York  is  than  one 
New  Yorker  out  of  five  hundred,  Englishmar 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  37 

corn  though  I  am.  I  'm  acquainted  with  every 
body,  you  see ;  I  make  a  point  of  it ;  I  enjoy 
it." 

Wainwright  gave  a  sly  smile.  "  From  what 
I  heard  not  long  ago,"  he  said,  "  I  was  led  to 
infer  that  one  could  not  be  on  good  terms  with 
our  host  and  hostess  if  he  were  acquainted 
with  everybody." 

Mr.  Binghamton  looked  puzzled  for  a  mo 
ment  ;  then,  employing  one  of  his  quick,  jerky 
gestures,  he  seized  Wainwright's  arm,  leaning 
forward  with  a  humorous  frown  on  his  low, 
round  forehead.  "  I  understand,"  he  said,  in 
bustling  semitone,  —  "I  understand  perfectly. 
You  mean  something  that  dreadful  Miss  Spuy- 
tenduyvil  has  been  saying  to  you."  Here  the 
speaker  made  a  wry  face,  that  might  have 
done  famously  for  a  bronze  statuette  of  Come 
dy,  so  ludicrous  was  its  funny  distortion.  "  By 
Jove,  my  dear  fellow,  that  girl  is  my  simple 
abomination.  The  idea  of  my  having  to  take 
her  in  to  dinner !  It  was  positively  ghastly. 
Now,  I  assure  you,  I  'm  not  apt  to  speak  ill 
-•)f  people;  I'm  immensely  commode;  I  make 
he  best  of  everybody  I  meet,  and  I  manage 
,o  get  a  great  deal  of  real  enjoyment  out  of 


38  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

my  dealings  with  all  society.  But  that  girl 
gives  me  a  feeling,  when  I  'm  near  her,  of  sit 
ting  in  a  draught  and  wantonly  catching  cold. 
I  've  avoided  her  for  months  ;  to-night,  as  you 
see,  our  introduction  to  each  other  became 
fatality.  I  would  as  soon  have  carried  a  death's- 
head  in  to  dinner.  I  positively  think  she  has 
been  constructed  on  a  framework  of  bones 
taken  from  her  own  family  vault.  I  don't  be 
lieve  she  has  got  any  pulse.  I  should  n't  be 
surprised  if  there  were  a  little  hole  in  the  back 
of  her  head,  where  she  put  a  key  every  morn 
ing,  and  wound  up  the  clockwork  that  serves 
her  for  an  intelligence.  She  despises  me  be 
cause  she  has  no  knowledge  of  my  grand 
father  ;  she  values  everybody  according  to  his 
grandfather.  .  .  .  Good  heavens!  what  a  serv 
ice  hers  would  have  done  his  kind,  if  he  had 
only  remained  a  bachelor  !  " 

Mr.  Binghamton  had  removed  his  hand  from 
Wainwright's  arm  some  little  time  ago,  but  the 
latter  now  placed  his  own  hand,  in  a  softly 
jovial  way,  upon  the  Englishman's  shoulder. 
There  was  something  about  this  Mr.  Bingham 
ton  that  di'd  more  than  merely  amuse  him 
Wainwright  perceived  a  heartiness  in  the  mar 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  39 

which  seemed  to  spring  from  something  ap 
preciably  actual.  He  had  already  told  him 
self,  with  his  alert  sense  at  noting  and  valuing 
character,  that  the  sincerity  might  not  be  deep 
or  strong.  Here  was  a  sort  of  professional 
diner-out,  a  person  of  the  most  light,  worldly 
pattern.  But  so  far  as  he  went,  though  the  dis 
tance  might  not  be  far,  Mr.  Binghamton  was 
at  least  real,  spontaneous  and  genuine. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  Wainwright  now  said, 
"  I  don't  want  to  have  Miss  Spuytenduyvil  de 
scribed  to  me.  I  have  already  drawn  my  own 
rather  painful  impressions  of  her.  I  should 
much  prefer  knowing,  if  you  've  no  objections, 
whether,  of  the  half  a  dozen  sets  which  you  fre 
quent,  these  guests  of  to-night  represent  the 
most  select  set  ;  and  if  so,  why." 

Mr.  Binghamton  laughed  again.  "You  look 
prodigiously  in  earnest,"  he  said.  "  You  seem 
like  a  man  thirsting  for  information." 

"  You  are  quite  right  there." 

Mr.  Binghamton  drooped  his  head  in  appar 
ent  reflection,  though  the  corner  of  his  mouth 
twitched  somewhat  mirthfully.  On  a  sudden 
fie  raised  his  head  again.  Each  little  hazel  eye 
beamed  forth  from  a  kind  of  merry  squint, 


|O  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  It 's  amusing,"  he  said,  "to  find  any  one 
who  dines  with  the  Bodensteins,  and  yet  who 
wants  to  be  told  why  they  are  such  horrible 
swells." 

"  Miss  Spuytenduyvil  said  something  of  the 
same  sort,"  was  Wainwright's  quiet  reply. 

"  Oh,  bother  Miss  Spuytenduyvil !  "  returned 
Mr.  Binghamton,  leaning  over  to  empty  his 
glass.  "The  mere  mention  of  her  name  chills 
my  Burgundy.  .  .  .  How  shall  I  gratify  your 
perfectly  natural  curiosity  ? "  he  went  on,  giv 
ing  Wainwright  one  of  his  transient  sidelong 
looks.  "Well,  when  our  host  first  came  here 
he  was  the  plainest  of  nobodies.  I  believe  he 
is  a  Hungarian  ;  in  one  way  he  was  certainly  a 
Bohemian,  if  you  '11  pardon  my  bad  joke.  He 
had  drifted  into  a  well-known  banking-house, 
-  Heaven  knows  how  !  There  he  started  as 
a  banker  for  himself,  under  the  patronage  of  a 
celebrated  German  capitalist, —  Heaven  knows 
how,  again!  All  this  while  he  had  been  strug 
gling  to  make  the  influential  people  receive 
him.  They  tell  queer  stories  of  how  he  was  re 
buffed.  But  he  persevered.  He  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  be  a  grandee.  He  is  a  person  who 
aeeds  only  to  make  up  his  mind  that  he  wil 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  4! 

do  a  thing  to  succeed  in  it.  He  sets  his  teeth, 
gives  a  leap,  and  clears  the  hurdle,  however 
high  it  is.  The  finest  coup  that  he  ever  made 
was  his  marriage.  All  that  he  required  was 
to  marry  brilliantly.  He  had  got  himself  re 
ceived  everywhere,  he  had  become  a  person  of 
consequence,  it  is  true,  but  his  foot-hold  still 
wanted  firmness.  And  at  last  he  married  Miss 
Amsterdam.  She  had  been  the  belle  of  the 
past  season  ;  she  had  twenty  thousand  a  year 
in  her  own  right ;  she  had  refused  ten  other 
men  in  as  many  months,  to  my  certain  knowl 
edge.  But  Bodenstein  won  her,  all  the  same. 
They  say  that  he  settled  a  million  upon  her  to 
do  it.  Even  then,  some  of  her  family  made  a 
fuss  about  the  marriage." 

"  Miss  Spuytenduyvil,  for  instance,"  said 
Wainwright,  with  a  smile. 

"  Bah  !  that  caricature  does  n't  count.  She  's 
i  f  no  importance  at  all ;  she  's  merely  a  poor 
relation  of  a  great  family,  who  tries  to  increase 
her  value  in  the  world  by  making  herself  the 
most  obnoxious  of  snobs." 

"  It  seems  rather  strange/'  said  Wainwright, 
to  hear  of  a  great  American  family." 

"  But  they  exist,  I  assure  you.     Not  polit- 


4.2  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

ically  great,  as  in  Europe,  of  course.  The  Am 
sterdams  have  no  seat  in  any  House  of  Peers 
but  they  are  a  very  proud  and  powerful  race, 
notwithstanding.  They  go  straight  back 
through  the  Revolution  to  the  times  when 
New  York  was  a  Dutch  village.  And  every 
day  this  influence  of  family  becomes  a  stronge- 
force  here.  New  people  with  big  fortunes 
and  no  descent  look  with  envious  eyes  at  cer 
tain  doors  that  remain  coldly  closed  against 
them.  This  may  seem  like  a  frightfully  incon 
gruous  thing  in  the  largest  city  of  the  largest 
republic  on  the  globe  ;  but  there  is  n't  the 
slightest  doubt  about  it  as  a  fact.  The  Amer 
ican  social  scheme,  in  nearly  all  its  chief  cities, 
at  least,  is  often  a  most  amusing  satire  upon 
itself.  All  the  people  whom  you  've  met  to 
night  think  quite  as  much  of  their  'positions  ' 
(judged  relatively,  of  course)  as  the  haughtiest 
\neille  noblesse  in  Europe." 

Very  soon  afterward,  the  gentlemen  aban 
doned  their  smoking  and  went  to  join  the 
ladies  in  the  drawing-rooms.  Mr.  Carroll 
Gansevoort  walked  at  Wainwright's  side. 

"  I  saw  Binghamton  firing  away  at  you,"  he 
said,  in  his  loitering  voice,  "and  knew  that  nc 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  43 

fellow  had  a  chance  to  talk  while  he  was  doing 
that  sort  of  thing.  But  he  's  confoundedly 
clever,  is  Binghamton.  Upon  my  word,  now, 
he  knows  a  fearful  lot.  By  the  way,  did  you 
bring  any  traps  over  with  you  ?  I  suppose 
not,  eh  ?  I  've  just  had  a  jolly  drag  sent 
across.  It's  going  to  beat  anything  in  the 
Coaching-Club,  I  fancy.  We've  a  Coaching- 
Club  here,  you  know.  Nothing  so  swell  as 
yours,  of  course.  ...  I  say,  can't  I  present 
you  to  any  more  of  these  ladies  ?  That  little 
girl  with  the  red  hair,  now,  .  .  .  she  's  ever  so 
pretty  when  one  gets  nearer  to  her.  She  's  a 
great  catch,  and  awfully  good  form  ;  you  see 
how  the  men  are  flocking  up  to  her.  They  say 
she  owns  a  whole  street  somewhere,  —  I  think 
it 's  Philadelphia.  One  does  n't  know  much 
about  her  people  ;  she  was  taken  up  a  good 
deal  last  summer  at  Newport.  Pray  let  me 
present  you  ;  she  's  horribly  fond  of  English 
men." 

But  Wainwright  expressed  his  intention  of 
departing  after  he  should  say  a  few  words  to 
Mrs.  Bodenstein.  Then  he  lightly  touched 
Mr.  Gansevoort's  arm,  and  added, 

"  By  the  way,  I  must  beg  you  to  remember 


4.4  4    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

that  I  am  not  an  Englishman.  I  am  an  Amer 
ican."  After  that,  he  paused  for  a  second  or 
two,  and  looked  full  into  the  serene,  patrician 
face  of  his  companion.  "  Yes,"  he  went  on, 
"I  am  an  American,  like  yourself." 

He  had,  somehow,  not  been  able  to  resist 
that  mildly  reproachful  sarcasm.  He  left  soon 
afterward,  went  back  to  his  hotel,  and  sat  for 
some  time,  consuming  another  cigar  and  think 
ing.  He  felt  that  he  had  much  to  think  about. 
On  the  whole,  his  meditations  were  more  satis 
factory  than  a  longer  sojourn  would  have  been 
among  the  grandeurs  of  the  Bodenstein  man 
sion.  He  was  not  sorry  that  he  had  avoided 
knowing  the  young  lady  with  red  hair,  who 
owned  a  whole  street  somewhere,  and  had  so 
marked  a  preference  for  Englishmen.  He  was 
under  the  impression  that  he  had  met  enough 
people  for  one  day,  and  had  had  enough  sur 
prises.  And  while  he  sat  ruminating  upon  his 
recent  experiences  and  the  keenness  of  their 
suggestions,  he  felt  like  one  who  has  abruptly 
confronted  a  prob  em  of  baffling  novelty. 


IV. 

GREATER  portion  of  the  next  day 
Wainwright  spent  with  his  lawyers. 
In  the  evening  he  resolved  to  go  and 
see  Mrs.  Townsend  Spring.  New  York  had  be 
gun  by  amazing  him  ;  it  had  ended  by  sharply 
interesting  him.  He  was  not  yet  sure  whether 
he  liked  it  or  not.  He  had  still  seen  but  a 
corner  of  the  picture  ;  more  drapery,  so  to 
speak,  must  be  withdrawn,  for  the  ensemble  to 
come  clearly  forth.  And  he  found  himself 
quite  eager  to  observe  the  picture  from  the 
most  advantageous  of  stand-points  and  with 
eyes  of  critical  impartiality.  He  had  never 
chosen  to  mingle  greatly  in  English  fashion 
able  circles.  Had  he  done  so,  he  would  doubt 
less  have  met  there  a  few  Americans  of  both 
sexes  whose  refinement  and  good  breeding 
would  have  prepared  him,  however  insuffi- 


(J.6  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

ciently,  for  the  facts  which  had  of  late  buist 
upon  his  knowledge.  As  it  was,  he  had  lived, 
in  England,  a  life  midway  between  that  of  the 
pomp-loving  aristocrat  and  the  scholarly  re 
cluse.  He  had  had  his  lodgings  in  London, 
well  appointed,  not  exempt  from  some  of  the 
best  books,  journals,  and  magazines;  he  had 
enjoyed  his  club  and  his  club  associates  ;  he 
had  stayed  at  country  houses  ;  he  had  shot  in 
the  season  ;  he  had  dined  out  considerably 
when  in  town,  and  not  been  above  an  occa 
sional  crowded  ball  while  the  dowagers  and  the 
marketable  beauties  were  down  from  the  coun 
try  in  full  feather.  Briefly,  he  had  seen  all 
that  is  most  English  in  English  life,  and  hence 
had  naturally  breathed  into  his  being  that  in 
sularity  of  thought  and  feeling  which  accom 
panies  any  such  mode  of  passing  one's  days. 
During  his  trip  through  Switzerland  he  had 
met  Mrs.  Spring,  and  had  liked  her  as  we  so 
often  like  what  presents  to  us  a  new  vista  of 
observation.  She  had  seemed  to  him  exces 
sively  new.  Her  buoyant  piquancy,  as  he  then 
called  it,  had  corresponded  with  the  freshness 
of  the  scenes  in  which  he  found  her.  He  was 
now  anxious  to  see  how  she  would  strike  him 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  47 

amid  Ker  native  surroundings.  He  already  had 
a  suspicion  that  he  would  regard  her  with  more 
exacting  eyes  than  formerly.  She  had  then 
appeared  to  him  as  an  agreeable  curiosity  ;  he 
had  perhaps  unconsciously  made  allowances  for 
her.  She  then  merely  served  for  an  entertain 
ing  companion  of  travel,  whom  he  had  regarded 
with  the  gracious  and  extenuating  self-admis 
sion  that  she  was,  after  all,  only  an  American 
lady.  How  would  she  affect  him  now  ?  What 
sort  of  detail  would  she  make  in  the  large  view 
that  was  gradually  unfolding  to  him  its  pano 
ramic  entirety  ?  As  they  climbed  mountains 
together,  her  laugh  had  rung  out  through  the 
limpid  Alpine  air  with  a  silvery  concordance. 
Her  daring  speeches,  her  abrupt  impertinences, 
had  harmonized  with  the  rugged  sheerness  of 
neighboring  cliffs.  She  had  been  delightfully 
un-English  then,  and  so  was  Switzerland.  But 
looked  at  with  analyzing  coolness  against  an 
altered  background,  Wainwright  had  strong 
misgivings  lest  she  would  appear  quite  a  dif 
ferent  figure. 

A  little  before  eight  o'clock,  this  evening, 
he  left  his  hotel,  which  was  situated  in  what 
<ve  caL  the  lower  portion  of  Fifth  Avenue, 


48  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

amid  that  region  of  residences  which  lack  the 
gallant  thrift  of  others  lying  beyond  them,  yet 
wear  a  time-touched  gravity  rare  in  a  city  so 
roughly  subversive  of  all  memorial  charm.  He 
observed  this  trait  of  variation  as  he  walked 
along  ;  he  had  already  marked  it  under  the 
less  dubious  conditions  of  daylight.  The  Jan 
uary  weather  had  recently  changed,  with  that 
instability  which,  till  of  late,  has  defied  even 
the  prophecy  of  our  scientists.  All  sting  had 
left  the  atmosphere  ;  a  faint  south  wind  was 
blowing,  laden  with  a  peculiar  damp  bland- 
ness  ;  the  stars  beamed  above  the  town  in  a 
sort  of  rounded  calm,  shorn  of  all  icy  glitter. 
As  Wainwright  moved  onward,  the  extreme 
peace  of  his  environment  forcibly  struck  him. 
Here  was  no  strident  roll  of  the  omnibus  ;  on 
either  side  the  sweep  of  lamplit  street  gleamed 
nearly  bare  of  passers  ;  the  houses  seemed  to 
drowse  in  a  lazy  duskiness,  with  infrequent 
squares  of  light  at  their  windows.  But  a  few 
hundred  steps  brought  our  observer  into  quite 
another  realm.  The  dwellings  all  wore  a  more 
modern  air.  Before  some  of  them  stood 
coaches  and  conpts  in  sombre  torpor,  doubtless 
waiting  for  occupants  who  were  destined  tc 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  40 

distress  the  more  punctual  attendants  at  theatre 
or  opera.  A  brief  interval  brought  him  within 
that  spacious  quarter  which  fronts  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel.  Here  reigned  a  most  bustling 
activity.  The  great  marble  mass  of  the  hotel 
lifted  itself  in  solemn  pallor  against  the  tran 
quil  darkness.  But  below,  on  its  white,  col 
umned  portico,  was  a  throng  of  men,  smoking 
and  talking  together.  Wainwright  paused  for 
a  moment,  and  looked  about  him.  Madison 
Square  lay  upon  his  left,  showing  the  black 
traceries  of  its  leafless  trees.  In  a  broad  in 
terspace,  filled  with  the  busy  jingle  of  gliding 
street-cars  and  the  active  rumble  of  carriages, 
rose  an  immense  lamp,  whose  cluster  of  illu 
mined  globes  shed  cordial  radiations  upon 
the  shadowy  movements  beneath.  Directly  in 
front  of  where  Wainwright  had  stationed  him 
self,  and  across  the  intervening  street,  juts  a 
\vedge  of  building  that  is  the  point  of  inter 
section  between  this  noted  avenue  and  the 
still  more  popular  domain  of  Broadway.  The 
structure  is  low,  and  overtopped  by  the  wall 
of  one  closely  behind  it.  On  a  square  of  can 
vas  reared  above  its  roo£,  a  gigantic  disc  of  light 
aad  been  thrown,  evidently  by  means  of  some 

4 


50  A    GEXTLEMAN   OF  LEISURE. 

concealed  magic-lantern.  An  extraordinary 
entertainment  was  now  taking  place,  for  the 
benefit  of  any  one  who  chose  to  regard  it. 
At  one  moment  huge  letters  appeared  to  start 
forth  from  vacuum  upon  the  disc,  telling  the 
heli older  with  a  sort  of  mercantile  ghostliness 
where  he  could  procure  the  most  durable 
shirts.  Then  this  elfin  communication  would 
vanish,  to  be  replaced  by  a  colossal  old  man 
asleep  in  a  chair,  with  jaws  moving  weirdly, 
and  a  mouse  crawling  at  stealthy  pace  toward 
the  movable  aperture.  At  last  the  mouse  en 
tered  it,  and  was  vigorously  chewed  up,  to  the 
delight  of  giggling  by-standers.  Instantly 
afterward  this  dramatic  event  became  blank 
nothingness,  and  was  succeeded  by  the  mi 
raculous-looking  information  that  Tompkins 
the  tailor  never  disappointed  a  customer. 
Wainwright  watched  it  all  with  soft  amaze 
ment  He  presently  passed  onward,  with  a 
sense  of  having  encountered  a  new  local  inci 
dent.  Perhaps  he  failed  to  appreciate  how  in 
tensely  characteristic  of  his  native  country  was 
the  sight  he  had  just  witnessed.  He  had  not 
vet  discovered  that  the  advertising  impulse,  in 
our  special  form  of  civilization,  may  sometimes 
reach  hysterical 'points  of  assertiveness. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  5  I 

Leaving  the  little  fascinated  throng,  Wain- 
wright  continued  his  walk.  He  passed  the 
big  crowded  porch.  All  sorts  of  men  seemed 
thronging  there.  A  rough,  grisly  person  in  a 
draggled  ulster  stood  next  one  with  a  dyed 
moustache  waxed  at  either  end,  a  hard,  animal 
face,  a  heavy  rope  of  watch-chain,  and  an  enor 
mous  diamond  flashing  from  his  shirt-front. 
Quiet  figures,  pompous  figures,  and  threadbare 
figures  were  all  heterogeneously  grouped  here. 
He  cast  a  momentary  look  into  the  wide  hall 
beyond,  and  saw  that  it  was  peopled  with  a 
dense,  restless  multitude.  He  had  a  sense  of 
being  engirt  almost  to  a  degree  of  violence  by 
the  chafe  and  fret  of  life.  At  the  same  instant 
a  thought  crossed  him  of  how  he  had  lived  for 
years  quite  heedless  that  the  social  elements 
had  even  existed  which  wrought  so  much  ro 
bust  tumult.  These  had  been  shaping  out  their 
destiny,  so  to  speak,  and  he  had  thought  noth 
ing  about  them.  A  realization  of  his  own  indif 
ferent  absence  abruptly  stung  him  like  a  twinge 
of  conscience.  He  could  scarcely  explain  the 
feeling;  it  was  too  elusive  and  unsolicited.  He 
had  a  sort  of  odd  premonition  that  he  might  per- 
u  ips  explain  it.  better  hereafter.  For  the  pres- 


52  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

ent,  it  seemed  to  bear  grim  yet  vague  kinship  to 
self-accusation,  if  not  positive  remorse. 

He  laughed  low  to  himself  as  he  walked  on, 
and  in  truth  the  laugh  might  have  rung  a  little 
harsh  if  it  had  been  more  audible. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  am  coming  to,"  he 
told  his  own  thoughts.  "  Shall  I  suspect  my 
self  of  being  ashamed  that  I  am  on  such  dis 
tant  terms  with  my  own  country  ?  " 

He  had  slight  difficulty  in  finding  Mr. 
Spring's  residence.  It  was  a  basement  house, 
with  one  large  lighted  window,  whose  drawn 
shade  bore  the  reflected  likeness,  outlined  in 
Delicate  photography,  of  tropical  foliage  grow 
ing  from  a  slender-pedestaled  urn.  He  gave 
this  window  a  brief  yet  contemplative  glance 
before  ringing  the  bell.  Its  brilliancy  and 
breadth  had  something  that  reminded  him  of 
Mrs.  Spring  herself.  But  there  the  analogy 
stopped.  That  bit  of  aerial  picturesqueness 
limned  upon  the  radiant  surface  by  no  means 
suggested  his  prospective  hostess.  It  seemed 
to  imply  a  covert  and  subtle  grace  of  which 
he  did  not  recall  that  her  best  mood  had  ever 
been  capable.  If  the  flat,  bold  splendor  of 
the  window-pane  represented  Mrs.  Spring,  h<*  , 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  53 

had  a  quaint  fancy  that  the  slim  bouquet  of 
dreamy  leafage  might  speak  with  tender  proph 
ecy  for  some  unseen  inmate  of  her  household. 
A  maid-servant  admitted  him,  clad  in  an 
ample  white  apron  and  a  fluted  cap  that  was 
French  without  being  coquettish.  The  maid 
took  his  card,  and  parted  the  expanse  of  a  rich 
amber  curtain,  while  he  was  doffing  his  out 
ward  attire.  He  had  time  to  perceive  that 
the  narrow  hall  possessed  several  other  exits, 
and  that  each  was  draped  with  stately  uni 
formity  in  the  same  delicious  amber  material, 
while  the  carpet  beneath  his  feet  had  the  hue, 
depth  and  softness  of  moss.  Almost  imme 
diately  he  heard  voices  behind  the  nearest  fall 
of  tapestry,  and  when  the  servant  presently 
ushered  him  between  its  folds  he  discovered 
fhat  the  chamber  lying  beyond  contained  a 
group  of  people.  It  was  not  a  large  apart 
ment,  and  its  occupants,  of  whom  three  were 
ladies  and  three  gentlemen,  gave  it  a  decep 
tive  air  of  being  overcrowded.  It  reminded 
the  new-comer  of  pictures  that  he  had  seen 
by  Toulmouche  or  De  Jonghe.  Pie  had  a  con 
fused  impression  of  Oriental  screens,  deep- 
cushioned  chairs,  vivid-coloreci  rugs,  and  ta- 


54  J    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISUKE. 

bles  and  shelves  literally  piled  with  bric-a- 
brac.  The  three  gentlemen  all  rose  as  he  en 
tered,  and  one  of  the  ladies  tried  to  rise,  but 
fell  back  into  her  capacious  arm-chair  with  a 
little  shriek  of  laughter,  as  her  foot  struck 
against  an  elaborate  golden-bronze  coal-scuttle 
near  the  merrily-crackling  fire. 

This  lady,  as  Wainwright  now  saw,  was 
none  other  than  Mrs.  Townsend  Spring  her 
self.  She  held  out  to  him  a  small,  plump 
hand,  as  white  as  milk,  while  leaning  back  in 
her  chair  with  mirthful  abandonment.  She 
had  a  round  face  of  infantile  freshness,  whose 
red  lips  seemed  made  as  though  meant  always 
to  curl  in  laughter  over  teeth  of  dazzling 
purity.  Her  little  figure  was  modeled  with 
an  exuberance  imperiling  symmetry,  if  not 
just  spoiling  it. 

Wainwright  took  the  hand  she  offered  him  ; 
she  retained  it  for  several  moments,  shaking 
it  while  she  laughed  and  spoke  at  the  same 
time.  He  was  obliged  to  stoop  rather  awk 
wardly  during  this  prolonged  process  of  wel- 
rome,  for  his  hostess  wore  a  silken  robe  of 
much  splendor,  whose  copious  train  had  got 
itself  coiled  before  her  chair,  leaving  visible 
"wo  tiny  feet  in  high-heeled  slippers. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  55 

"  It  was  ever  so  nice  of  you  to  come  so 
soon  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Spring,  letting  her  jocund 
face  beam  up  at  her  guest  from  a  tufted  back 
ground  of  black  and  scarlet  embroidery.  "  I 
was  never  more  amazed  than  when  Townsend 
told  me  you  had  come  to  this  country."  Here 
Mrs.  Spring  looked  at  one  of  the  three  gen 
tlemen,  who  still  remained  standing.  "Do  put 
that  coal-scuttle  where  it  belongs  ! "  she  ex 
claimed,  and  while  a  great  burst  of  laughter 
left  her  lips  she  gave  the  article  referred  to  a 
vigorous  kick  with  one  of  her  dainty  feet.  "  I 
think  you  placed  it  there  purposely  to  trip  me 
up,"  she  went  on,  with  a  sudden  mock  gravity 
in  face  and  tone,  "just  because  I  ordered  you 
to  feed  the  fire.  I  don't  see  how  anybody  who 
is  always  playing  polo  and  riding  races,  and  all 
that,  can  be  so  revengefully  lazy.  You  don't 
deserve  to  have  me  introduce  you  to  the  best 
fellow  in  the  world.  Upon  my  word,  it  would 
be  a  good  way  of  punishing  you." 

Mrs.  Spring  still  retained  Wainwright's 
hand.  She  now  gave  it  a  final  exaggerated 
shake,  that  would  have  looked  an  act  of  shock 
ing  boldness  if  her  diminutive  stature  and  pe 
culiar,  insolent  sort  of  felicity  had  not  com- 


56  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

bined   to   make  nearly  everything  of  the  sort 
that  she  did  irresistibly  comic. 

"I  hope  you  don't  mean  that  I  am  the  best 
fellow  in  the  world,"  said  Wainwright,  at  this 
point,  with  a  laugh  that  hid  his  pardonable 
embarrassment.  "  I  should  be  very  sorry  to 
come  among  strangers  with  the  necessity  of 
living  up  to  any  such  monstrous  reputation." 

A  general  laugh  followed  these  words,  and 
then  a  voice  at  Wainwright's  elbow  immediately 
said,  in  brisk  tones  which  he  recognized,  even 
before  turning  and  meeting  the  speaker's  face, 
"I  trust  you  don't  mean  to  count  me  as  a 
stranger." 

"Oh,  far  from  that,"  said  Wainwright,  gen 
ially,  as  he  found  himself  shaking  hands  with 
Mr.  Binghamton. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  declared  Mrs.  Spring,  in 
her  rattling,  crisp  way,  as  she  looked  at  Wain 
wright  and  waved  one  hand  toward  Mr.  Bing 
hamton,  "  I  did  n't  suppose  for  an  instant  that 
you  could  have  been  twenty-four  hours  in  New 
York  without  knowing  that  man.  Nobody  ever 
escapes  him  for  a  longer  period.  lie  goes 
10  eight  and  ten  different  places  of  a  night 
There  's  a  sort  of  ghost-story  told  about  him 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  5; 

that  he  was  once  in  two  separate  drawing- 
rooms  at  precisely  the  same  hour.  They  say 
that  he  waits  at  the  wharves  for  the  foreign 

o 

steamers  to  come  in,  and  gets  the  custom-house 
officers  to  introduce  him  to  newly-landed  celeb 
rities." 

Mr.  Binghamton  heard  this  tirade  with  a 
look  of  such  complete  unconcern  as  no  facial 
adroitness  could  have  counterfeited.  "  You  see 
what  an  important  being  Mrs.  Spring  evidently 
considers  me,"  he  said  to  Wainwright,  "when 
she  will  postpone  your  introduction  to  no  less 
than  four  of  the  people  present  simply  because 
she  has  a  caprice  for  making  sport  of  me.  But 
I  shall  repair  her  incivility,"  he  continued,  tak 
ing  a  few  steps  in  the  direction  of  two  ladies 
who  were  seated  at  either  end  of  an  immense 
cashmere-covered  lounge.  "  Let  me  present 
Mr.  Wainwright  to  Miss  Ruth  Cheever,  a  sis 
ter  of  our  hostess,  and  also  to  Miss  Lydia 
Spring,  a  sister  of  her  absent  husband,  whom 
I  believe  you  know." 

Mrs.  Spring  here  gave  one  of  her  loud,  mu 
sical  laughs.  ''Dear  me,  Bing,"  she  cried, 
•  how  delightfully  explanatory  you  are  !  You  'd 
better  tell  the  age  of  each  young  lady,  while 
«'ou  are  dealing  with  other  personal  particulars." 


58  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Mr,  Binghamton  closed  his  eyes  and  placed 
one  hand  upon  his  breadth  of  spotless  shirt- 
bosom.  His  dry  yellow  face  became  ridic 
ulously  solemn ;  his  jaunty  red  moustache 
seemed  to  acquire  an  absurd  droop.  "  There 
are  some  mysteries,"  he  said,  with  a  voice  like 
a  slow  bass  chant,  "  which  the  most  daring 
curiosity  must  be  content  to  leave  unsolved." 

The  young  lady  called  Miss  Lyclia  Spring 
here  slightly  tossed  her  head.  It  was  a  very 
pretty  head  ;  its  curly  blond  hair  and  the 
waxen,  pink-cheeked  face  beneath  it  had  the 
sort  of  doll-like  charm  that  we  sometimes  see 
in  a  coiffeurs  window.  She  had  a  large,  heavy, 
indolent  figure,  whose  generous  curves  were 
not  lessened  by  a  raiment  of  some  diaphanous 
texture,  so  cut  as  to  leave  in  almost  audacious 
relief  the  soft,  creamy  outlines  of  neck  and 
bosom.  She  spoke  in  a  petulantly  arch  way, 
while  remoulding  to  suit  her  lazy  mood  a  great 
plush  cushion,  as  crimson  as  a  garnet,  upon 
which  one  of  her  fair,  tapering  arms  had  rested 
with  handsome  effect. 

"  My  age  is  n't  any  mystery,  if  you  please," 
she  exclaimed.  "  I  was  eighteen  my  last  birth 
day,  and  you  know  it  perfectly  well,  Bing,  you 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  59 

horrid,  tormenting  fellow  !  "  Here  Miss  Lydia 
fixed  a  pair  of  babyish  blue  eyes  on  Wain- 
wright's  face.  "  Mr.  Wainwright,"  she  went 
on,  "you  can  see  now  why  my  sister-in-law 
pitches  into  him  so.  One  has  to  pitch  into 
him  to  keep  him  from  abusing  one." 

"  And  pray  why  is  Miss  Ruth,  there,  not 
indignant  that  I  should  have  called  her  age 
a  mystery?"  asked  Mr.  Binghamton,  at  this 
point,  with  a  gesture  toward  the  young  lady  at 
the  other  end  of  the  lounge. 

"  Oh,  you  had  best  not  bring  my  good-nat 
ure  into  discussion,"  now  said  Miss  Ruth 
Cheever,  with  quiet  protest.  "That  is  some 
thing  which  nobody  should  depend  upon  too 
rashly." 

Wainwright  turned  and  looked  at  this  speaker 
the  moment  that  her  voice  sounded.  His  eyes 
scanned  her  longer  than  he  possibly  knew. 
He  liked  her  voice  ;  it  was  full  of  a  silvery  re 
finement.  She  seemed  quite  of  a  different 
world  from  either  of  her  relatives  :  the  elder, 
with  her  saucy,  graceful  buoyancy,  and  the 
younger,  with  her  childish  mannerisms  and 
slangy  idioms. 

"  Lyddy    is    getting   very    ill-natured,    I  'm 


60  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

afraid,"  said  Mr.  Binghamton,  with  a  grimace, 
warming  himself  before  the  fire,  while  Wain- 
wright  dropped  into  a  chair  midway  between 
Mrs.  Spring  and  her  two  kinswomen.  "  The 
heartless  world  is  spoiling  her  ;  the  butterfly- 
dust  has  been  taken  off  her  wings." 

"  You  must  n't  call  me  Lyddy,"  asserted 
Miss  Spring,  with  a  combined  pout  and  shrug. 
"Must  he,  Fanny?"  she  proceeded,  appealing 
to  the  wife  of  her  brother.  "'  It  makes  me 
seem  bad  style.  I  don't  like  it  a  bit." 

"  No,  Bing,  you  must  n't,"  said  Mrs.  Spring, 
using  a  brusque  seriousness  that  oddly  con 
trasted  with  her  recent  jollity.  She  spoke  the 
words  with  a  sidelong  look  in  Mr.  Bingham- 
ton's  direction  ;  immediately  afterward  she 
turned  the  keen,  small  eyes,  which  were  too 
small  and  keen  to  be  the  best  feature  of  her 
blithe  face,  full  upon  Wain  wright.  She  low 
ered  her  voice,  addressing  herself  exclusively 
to  him.  The  others  seemed  to  take  their  cue, 
as  it  were,  from  this  cool,  distinct  expression 
of  preference.  The  gentleman  who  had  just 
replaced  the  impeding  coal-scuttle  at  her  com 
mand,  now  seated  himself  near  Miss  Cheever ; 
another  gentleman  had  sunk  into  a  chair,  some 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  6 1 

moments  ago,  very  close  to  one  of  Miss  Boring's 
rosy  elbows.  Mr.  Binghamton  continued  to 
warm  himself  before  the  fire.  A  hum  of  voices 
at  once  rose  from  the  five  people  thus  disposed. 
Meanwhile  Mrs.  Spring  had  signified  to  Wain- 
vvright,  by  an  imperative  little  gesture,  that  she 
wished  his  chair  drawn  nearer  to  her  own,  and 
he  had  promptly  honored  this  tacit  order. 

"  You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  that  you 
came,"  she  began,  in  her  new,  moderated  voice. 
"  I  was  literally  dying  to  see  you  when  I  heard 
you  had  arrived.  We  had  such  a  glorious  time 
in  Europe  last  summer,  didn't  we?  We  got 
along  so  well  together,  there  ;  I  hope  we  shall 
be  just  as  good  friends  here.  But  you  will 
seem  so  different  here.  You  will  be  like  a 
picture  that  has  lost  its  frame." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  hope  soon  to  find  another," 
said  Wainwright,  laughing,  "  and,  perhaps,  a 
better  one." 

"  Pshaw,  my  dear  man,  you  don't  know  what 
you  are  saying.  You  will  be  so  bored  here  in 
a  week  or  two  that  you  will  wish  it  were  pos 
sible  to  be  telegraphed  back  again  through  the 
ocean  cable.  I  know  just  how  it  will  affect 
you.  You  will  think  it  new  and  strange  at 


62  A    GENTLEAfAN  OF  LEISURE. 

first,  and  rather  like  it.  Then  you  will  finish 
by  detesting  it.  They  always  finish  by  detest 
ing  it.  I  don't  mean  the  second  or  third  rate 
English,  you  know ;  I  mean  those  who  have 
always  been  among  the  great  swells.  And 
shall  I  tell  you  why  ? "  Here  Mrs.  Spring  laid 
her  hand  on  Wainwright's  coat-sleeve.  This 
was  one  of  her  unconventional  touches,  and 
she  had  a  number  of  them,  as  may  already  have 
been  suspected  of  her.  "Shall  I  tell  you 
why  ?"  she  repeated.  "  It  is  because  our  great 
swells  all  imitate  yours.  Now  imitations  are 
such  tiresome  things.  Every  society  ought  to 
be  original  to  have  any  charm  about  it.  Who 
wants  to  go  to  Turkey  and  find  that  all  the 
hookahs  and  ottomans  and  bow-strings  and 
bastinadoings  have  been  exterminated?  And 
pray  of  what  does  our  'best  society'  consist  ? 
Why,  simply  of  a  general  bowing-down  before 
English  customs,  English  ideas.  We  're  not  a 
bit  like  the  models  we  worship,  but 'we  pretend 
tc  be,  all  the  same.  Mind  you,  I  'm  not  speak 
ing  of  the  people  whom  one  never  meets.  I 
suppose  it 's  a  wonderful  country  when  we  look 
at  it  from  a  large,  democratic  stand-point.  But 
I  never  think  of  looking  at  it  so ;  and  you  '1 


A   GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  63 

not,  either,  unless  you  go  prowling  off  into  the 
prairies,  or  something  of  that  sort.  If  you 
stay  in  New  York  while  you  are  here,  you  '11 
find  that  our  best  people  will  rfln  after  you  a 
good  deal.  You  are  rich,  you  're  a  gentleman 
of  leisure,  as  the  phrase  goes,  you  're  enor 
mously  marriageable,  and  you  will  possibly  have 
a  fine  chance  of  observing  just  how  one  aris 
tocracy  apes  and  adores  the  other." 

Wainwright  was  looking  closely  at  his  com 
panion  by  the  time  that  she  ended  this  rather 
autocratic  monologue.  "  Tell  me,"  he  said, 
while  the  interest  that  was  getting  so  alert  with 
him  rather  quickened,  "  do  you  passively  submit, 
to  be  classed  with  so  despised  a  multitude  ? " 

Mrs.  Spring  laughingly  threw  back  her  head, 
showing  the  brilliant  evenness  of  her  teeth. 
"Passively  submit!"  she  repeated.  "Why, 
good  heavens,  my  dear  boy,  what  do  /  care 
about  it  ?  I  let  myself  go  with  the  current ;  I 
drift  along." 

Wainwright  echoed  her  laugh  ;  he  had 
slightly  drooped  his  head  ;  he  was  looking  at 
the  carpet  ;  he  spoke  without  raising  his  eyes. 
"  I  think  you  steer  your  own  way,"  he  said, 
'*  and  rather  adroitly.  You  know  just  where 


54  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

you  want  to  go,  and  you  go  there,  —  sometimes 
dead  against  tides,  or  even  rapids." 

Mrs.  Spring  threw  herself  back  in  the  big 
gorgeous  chair.  She  put  her  head  very  much 
on  one  side,  and  stared  at  Wainwright  between 
half-closed  eyes.  He  had  lifted  his  own  eyes, 
now  ;  he'  recognized  the  attitude  ;  it  was  like 
meeting  an  old  associate.  In  Switzerland  it 
had  seemed  to  him  informed  with  a  delicate 
originality ;  here,  amid  polite  and  domestic 
surroundings,  it  bristled  with  a  vicious,  ope 
ratic  piquancy.  He  had  not  thought  to  dislike 
it  then  ;  now  he  criticised  it  and  disliked  it. 

"  How  you  take  one  up  !  "  she  said.  "  That 
was  always  your  way.  We  have  a  horrid 
American  word  for  it,  —  at  least  it  ought  to  be 
American,  it  is  so  ugly :  you  na^  a  person. 
But  you  always  do  it  like  a  gentleman  ;  you 
are  never  ill-bred  about  it.  I  think  it  first  made 
me  like  you." 

"  I  shall  endeavor  to  cultivate  the  vice," 
.said  Wainwright,  with  inscrutable  gallantry. 

"  Of  course  I  steer  my  own  way,"  continued 
Mrs.  Spring,  suddenly  taking  an  upright  post 
ure,  and  cfivinsf  each  arm  of  her  chair  a  little 

o  o 

lecisive  pound  on  its  padded  abutment.    "  Wh) 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  6jj 

should  I  not  ?  I  like  enjoyment ;  I  have  a  pas 
sion  for  it.  I  never  gfaer  myself,  —  except  un 
intentionally,  sometimes,  in  seeking  for  amuse 
ment."  Her  radiant  face  suddenly  became 
grave,  and  her  observer  thought  that  its  eyes 
took  a  momentary  hard  keenness.  "But  you 
are  very  right,"  she  went  on,  "  to  say  that  I 
steer  adroitly.  I  'm  too  good  a  pilot  to  run 
my  vessel  on  any  quicksands  ;  and  as  for  the 
rapids  you  spoke  of,  I  never  take  them,  unless 
I  am  sure  —  perfectly  sure  —  that  I  can  shoot 
them." 

Wainwright  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  Then  his  composed  face  broke  into  a 
broad  smile.  But  he  remained  silent.  He 
had  begun  to  think  that  if  he  liked  Mrs.  Town- 
send  Spring  less  in  New  York  than  he  had 
liked  her  in  Switzerland,  she  at  least  interested 
him,  after  a  certain  way,  more  here  than  she 
had  done  there. 

His  companion  gave  an  abrupt,  impatien 
shrug.  It  reminded  him  of  the  shaking  of  a 
kaleidoscope.  The  painted  bits  of  glass  were 
going  to  assume  a  new  pattern.  "  If  I  were 
a  vain  woman,"  she  said,  "  I  should  tell  you 
that  you  were  fortunate  to  find  me  at  home 


56  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

to-night.  I  am  usually  out.  This  is  the  sea 
son,  you  know,  when  everybody  is  usually  out. 
But  we  concluded  to  save  ourselves  for  the 
great  ball  to-morrow  night  at  the  Grosvenors'. 
By  '  we '  I  mean  my  sister-in-law,  Lydia,  and 
myself.  I  suppose  that 'the  identity  of  Lydia 
has  by  this  time  dawned  upon  your  conscience, 
notwithstanding  the  mental  confusion  that 
must  have  resulted  from  your  dropping  in 
among  such  a  nest  of  strange  people.  If  not, 
let  me  explain  that  Lydia  is  the  young  lady 
who  recently  flew  into  a  rage  at  Binghamton's 
last  impertinence." 

Wainwright  let  his  eyes  wander  toward  the 
couch  where  the  two  young  ladies  were  seated  ; 
but  they  did  not  rest  upon  Lydia. 

"  Is  not  the  other  young  lady  a  resident  of 
your  household  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  sister  Ruth  ?  Oh,  yes.  But  she  does 
not  care  as  much  for  society  as  Lyddy  and 
myself.  She  only  goes  out  now  and  then." 

"  You  and  she  are  wonderfully  unlike  for 
two  sisters." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Spring,  lowering  her  voice 
a  little  unamiably.  "  Ruth  is  very  clever  ;  I 
.lare  say  you  might  like  her.  But  she  is  im 
cortunate  in  one  respect." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  6j 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  She  has  not  any  talent  for  enjoying  life." 

It  struck  Wain wright,  while  his  look  still 
furtively  watched  the  subject  of  their  discus 
sion,  that  perhaps  Miss  Ruth  Cheever  might 
possess  a  talent  for  making  life  enjoyable  to 
others,  when  disposed  actively  to  exert  it. 

He  would  doubtless  have  expressed  this 
opinion  aloud,  had  not  two  new  visitors,  both 
of  whom  were  gentlemen,  just  then  entered 
the  room.  Mrs.  Spring  rose  to  receive  them. 
Her  elegant  costume  gave  forth  a  rich  crackle 
as  she  did  so,  and  a  dainty  yet  distinct  jingle 
sounded  from  the  profuse  jewelry  adorning 
her  neck  and  arms. 

In  the  general  uprising  that  followed  among 
the  gentlemen,  Wainwright  found  himself 
close  to  Mr.  Binghamton.  "  Is  n't  it  funny," 
said  the  latter,  in  a  wicked  mutter,  "to  hear 
that  woman  rattle  and  tinkle  whenever  she 
moves  ?  I  once  met  an  enemy  of  hers  who 
said  such  a  good  thing  about  it.  He  said  that 
perhaps  her  husband  made  her  dress  so,  on  the 
same  principle  as  that  of  a  farmer  when  he 
ties  a  bell  to  a  cow's  neck,  to  keep  it  from 
lumping  fences  and  getting  astray." 


68  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISUKE. 

"  I  should  fancy  there  was  no  danger  that 
Mrs.  Spring  would  jump  fences,"  murmured 
Wainwright,  with  a  smile. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Binghamton,  putting  his 
arm  upon  Wainwright' s  shoulder,  and  leaning 
so  close  to  the  latter's  ear  that  a  bristle  of  his 
coarse  little  moustache  grazed  it,  —  "  no  ;  she 
only  thrusts  her  head  through  the  bars,  now 
and  then,  if  they're  a  safe  distance  apart." 
He  gave  a  low  chuckle  after  he  had  said  this, 
and  faint  as  the  sound  was,  his  hearer  caught 
in  it  a  ring  of  spite  that  possibly  meant  ven 
geance  for  Mrs.  Spring's  recent  impudent  at 
tack.  Immediately  afterward,  he  changed  his 
tone,  however,  and  went  on  in  a  galloping 
whisper:  "She's  a  nice  enough  little  woman, 
in  her  way,  and  I  don't  wish  her  a  bit  of  harm. 
Now  and  then  she  says  vile  things  to  me,  but 
she  knows  that  I  know  she  does  n't  mean 
them.  She  hardly  ever  gets  up  anything 
jolly  without  having  me  ;  she  wouldn't  quarrel 
with  me  for  a  finger  !  I  Ve  done  her  more 
than  one  good  turn,  and  she  counts  on  me  to 
do  her  others.  Our  little  talk  last  night  con 
vinced  me  that  you  're  a  social  observer  • 
you  're  looking  about.  Here  is  a  family  grour 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  69 

.hat  will  repay  lots  of  study.  Townsend  is  a 
horrid  cad,  but  a  complete  type  ;  you  could  n't 
get  anything  more  perfect  of  its  kind.  He  's 
playing  cards  at  the  club,  now ;  he  's  nearly 
always  playing  cards  at  the  club,  —  except 
when  gambling  in  Wall  Street.  Lyddy  is  a 
goose  ;  she  's  on  the  verge  of  a  great  scandal^ 
and  she  has  n't  brains  enough  to  discover  it. 
You  see  that  man  with  a  dark  complexion  and 
a  stoop  ?  His  name  is  Abernethy  ;  he  's  here 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  always  dangling 
after  Lyddy.  He  's  a  married  man,  with  the 
sweetest  little  wife  in  the  world,  who  adores 
him.  Of  course  there 's  no  real  harm  in 
Lyddy,  but  there  's  a  lot  of  harm  in  him.  His 
morals  are  as  dark  as  his  complexion.  Fanny 
Spring  will  send  him  off  some  day,  but  then  it 
will  be  too  late,  and  that  poor  fool  of  a  Lyddy 
will  be  roundly  compromised.  Now  just 
glance  at  Ruth  Cheever.  I  suppose  you  must 
have  noticed  her  before.  Is  n't  it  absurd  that 
she  should  be  Mrs.  Spring's  own  sister  ?  She  's 
one  girl  in  ten  thousand.  There  's  a  vacant 
chair  near  her ;  take  it,  and  have  a  talk  with 
her.  She  is  n't  appreciated  by  half  the  prat 
tlers  whom  she  's  forced  to  meet,  and  oh,  bless 


70  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

my  soul,  how  magnificently  she  despises  most 
of  them  !  You  may  not  see  this  at  first,  but 
I  assure  you  it 's  true.  She  does  n't  express 
her  contempt ;  it  escapes  her  unconsciously. 
She  's  one  of  my  beliefs,  that  girl,  though  I  'm 
not  one  of  hers,  and  don't  deserve  to  be.  I  '11 
lay  you  a  guinea  she's  infernally  unhappy. 
By  Jove,  she  's  good  reason  to  be.  You  '11  see 
why,  if  you  see  more  of  this  remarkable  fam 
ily.  ...  I  must  be  off ;  it 's  past  my  time 
already.  I  'm  promised  at  three  more  places 
to-night  —  solemnly  promised.  I  'm  such  a 
confounded  gadabout,  you  know.  Take  my 
advice  concerning  Ruth  Cheever,  old  fellow. 
Sit  down  and  have  a  chat  with  her  ;  you  '11  not 
regret  it." 

A  moment  later  Mr.  Binghamton  was  mak 
ing  his  adieus  to  everybody.  He  first  shook 
hands  briefly  with  Miss  Cheever,  in  his  restive 
way,  and  then  said  good-night  to  all  the  others. 
During  this  process  a  light  clamor  arose,  of 
which  he  seemed  the  mirthful  object.  While 
careless  railleries  were  being  leveled  at  him, 
he  bowed  himself  from  the  room,  with  little 
abrupt  pauses,  fitful  flashes  of  repartee,  shrugs 
of  the  shoulder,  and  one  or  two  pulls  at  his 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  /I 

moustache.  Meanwhile,  the  seat  beside  Miss 
Cheever  remained  vacant.  This  young  lady 
was  the  only  other  occupant  of  the  room  who 
had  not  risen  to  join  in  the  mock  wrangle  with 
Mr.  Binghamton.  Wainwright  advanced,  and 
sank  into  the  empty  chair. 

"I  have  just  been  hearing  some  very  kind 
things  said  of  you,  Miss  Cheever,"  he  began. 

"  Have  you  come  to  try  and  corroborate  their 
truth?"  she  asked,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  no."  he  said,  "  I  am  quite  willing  to 
take  them  for  granted.  I  come  in  a  most  cred 
ulous  frame  of  mind.  I  am  full  of  faith." 

"  Which  means  that  you  will  not  bear  dis 
appointment  with  resignation.  I  am  sorry  for 
that." 

Wainwright  drew  his  chair  a  little  nearer  to 
Miss  Cheever. 

"  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  not  be  disappointed," 
he  said,  "and  that  if  anyone  is  to  cultivate 
resignation  it  should  be  yourself." 


V. 


RS.  SPRING  had  by  this  time  resumed 
her  arm-chair.  Miss  Lydia,  having  left 
the  lounge,  had  betaken  herself  to  an 
other  chair,  which  bore  a  sort  of  decorative 
cousinship  to  that  which  her  sister-in-law  occu 
pied.  Three  of  the  gentlemen  had  gathered 
about  Mrs.  Spring,  and  her  sister-in-law  was 
in  close  conversation  with  the  fourth,  this  lat 
ter  being  the  dark-complexioned  personage  who 
had  recently  roused  Mr.  Binghamton's  caustic 
comments. 

Wain wright's  new  companion  slowly  an 
swered  his  last  words.  "  You  forget  that  I 
am  prepared  for  you,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
heard  of  you  beforehand.  When  my  brother 
m-law  mentioned,  yesterday,  that  you  hao 
crossed  the  ocean,  his  wife  burst  into  quite  a 
•ittle  rhapsody  about  you." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  73 

"  Ah,"  said  Wainwright,  "  that  makes  us 
quits,  does  it  not  ?  We  form  each  other's  ac 
quaintance  under  the  most  cheerful  auspices. 
We  should  slip  right  into  each  other's  good 
graces,  bringing  such  fine  credentials,  —  being 
both  so  highly  recommended,  as  it  were." 

Miss  Cheever  laughed.  "You  take  it  for 
granted,"  she  said,  "that  I  have  implicit  trust 
in  my  sister  Fanny's  endorsements." 

Wainwright  felt  that  he  plainly  detected  a 
satirical  challenge  in  the  soft,  quick  side-glance 
that  accompanied  these  words.  His  compan 
ion  had  already  prepossessed  him,  as  we  know. 
She  was  tall,  with  a  slight  figure,  of  rounded 
flexibility.  Her  hair  had  in  it  the  auburn  shine 
of  a  frosted  oak-leaf,  and  flowed  back  in  thick, 
pliant  waves  from  a  broad  white  forehead. 
Her  eyes  looked  black  in  the  present  light, 
but  a  near  view  of  them  made  a  blue  sparkle 
steal  from  their  shadows.  Her  face  was  of 
tender  coloring  and  sensitive  outline,  but  its 
features  bore  no  especial  nicety  of  mould  or  fin 
ish  ;  they  had  something  that  was  firm  enough 
Jo  be  strength  and  thoughtful  enough  to  seem 
intellectuality,  yet  their  vigor  was  like  the  deli- 
~-acy  of  those  more  rugged  ferns  that  join  a 


74  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

sweet  hardihood  with  the  slenderness  of  more 
fragile  kindred. 

It  was  now  Wainwright's  turn  to  laugh. 
"Oh,"  he  said,  "if  you  distrust  a  certificate  oi 
good  behavior  when  signed  by  your  sister,  why 
should  not  I  have  an  equal  right  to  cast  doubt 
upon  Mr.  Binghamton's  credibility?" 

"  You  have  every  right  in  the  world,"  she, 
answered  ;  and  the  smile  that  went  with  this 
response  puzzled  him  by  its  rich,  fleet  bright 
ness. 

"Can  you  mean  that  you  are  not  anxious  to 
be  spoken  well  of  by  Mrs.  Spring  ?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  at  him  steadily  and  rather  seri 
ously.  Wainwright  had  a  severe  misgiving 
lest  he  had  spoken  with  inadmissible  boldness. 
But  the  recollection  of  Mr.  Binghamton's  words 
was  still  very  fresh  in  his  mind,  and  even  these 
few  brief  moments  of  Miss  Cheever's  society 
had  sharpened  his  sense  of  how  great  a  con 
trast  lay  between  herself  and  the  light,  uncon 
ventional  woman  who  was  her  near  relation. 

"  I  would  rather  my  sister  should  speak  well 
than  ill  of  me,"  answered  the  young  girl. 

"  That  is  a  very  ambiguous  reply.  Do  you 
know,"  pursued  Wainwright,  "  that  when  I 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  75 

neard  you  were  Mrs.  Spring's  sister  I  could  a-t 
first  scarcely  believe  it  ?  " 

Miss  Cheever  slowly  nodded  her  head.  "The 
relationship  surprises  a  good  many  people,"  she 
returned. 

"  And  is  my  surprise  to  increase  or  diminish, 
after  I  have  known  you  better  ?  " 

She  started,  like  a  person  quite  thrown  off 
guard.  She  spoke  at  once,  with  a  gentle  im- 
petuority.  "  I  am  sure  that  you  will  find  no 
point  of  resemblance  between  us,"  she  said, 
and  then  paused,  flushing  a  little. 

"  Ah,"  said  Wainwright,  "  that  is  pleasant  to 
hear.  We  always  like  to  have  our  first  impres 
sions  of  people  confirmed  by  experience,  you 
know." 

She  looked  interested,  and  the  look  became 
her  charmingly.  "  Pray  tell  me  just  what  was 
your  first  impression  of  me.  I  am  curious  to 
learn  it." 

Wainwright  shook  his  head ;  he  appeared 
humorously  distressed.  "  It  might  annoy  you," 
ne  said. 

"That  only  makes  my  curiosity  the  strong 
er,"  she  replied,  leaning  a  little  nearer  to  him. 
'  If  you  annoy  me  I  shan't  hold  you  at  fault. 


76  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

I  shall  have  brought  the  catastrophe  upon  my 
self,  and  shall  have  been  the  victim  of  my  own 
curiosity." 

Wainwright  seemed  to  reflect.  "  Well,"  he 
presently  announced,  "  I  concluded  that  you 
were  a  young  lady  dissatisfied  with  her  sur 
roundings." 

"You  were  perfectly  right,"  said  Miss 
Cheever,  with  calm  emphasis.  She  bent  her 
auburn  head  for  a  moment,  and  rearranged  a 
knot  of  flowers  at  her  bosom.  Then  she 
looked  up  at  Wainwright  with  great  steadi 
ness  "  I  have  not  lived  here  very  long,"  she 
went  on.  "  It  is  only  two  years  since  I  came. 
I  used  to  live  with  my  mother,  in  a  simple 
Massachusetts  town.  It  was  not  far  from 
Boston, — just  near  enough  to  be  civilized." 
And  then  a  touch  of  laughter  broke  her  modu 
lated  voice. 

"  Ah,"  said  Wainwright,  handsomely,  "  it 
must  have  been  a  suburb." 

"It  was  very  pleasant.  A  little  provincial, 
perhaps,  but  it  had  what  you  call  a  '  tone  ; '  it 
was  delightfully  respectable.  I  left  some  dear 
friends  there.  When  mother  died  I  was 
forced  to  come  and  live  with  Fanny,  who  had 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  JJ 

already  been  married  several  years  to  Mr. 
Spring.  The  change  was  decisive.  I  don't 
think  I  have  ever  got  used  to  it.  I  don't 
think  I  ever  shall  get  used  to  it."  .  .A  Her 
eyes,  still  meeting  her  companion's,  had  the 
same  contemplative  fixity,  but  a  wistful  spark 
had  somehow  stolen  into  the  liquid  gloom  of 
each.  "  I  often  grow  vexed  and  out  of  pa 
tience  with  myself  at  my  own  dire  failure." 

"  I  really  can't  see  why  ! "  exclaimed  Wain- 
wright,  with  more  warmth  than  he  was  per 
haps  aware  of. 

Miss  Cheever  clasped  her  hands  together 
with  a  pretty  gesture  of  impatience,  and  let 
them  rest  thus  in  her  lap.  "  Oh,  the  air  is  so 
full  of  sarcasms,  now,  about  the  young  woman 
who  wearies  for  a  wider  sphere,  and  all  that. 
There  is  so  much  more  worldly  wisdom  in 
making  the  best  of  things.  A  woman  gets  no 
satisfaction,  in  this  age,  out  of  the  most  legit 
imate  discontentments.  She  has  a  choice  be 
tween  two  extremes,  and  that  is  all.  She 
must  either  consign  herself  to  frivolities,  or 
else  be  satirized  as  a  prig,  a  person  '  with 
views.'  And  in  either  case  she  is  satirized,  I 
find,  all  the  same.  Those  cruelly  clever  peo- 


78  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

pie  who  write  the  Saturday  reviews  will  not 
let  her  escape  from  the  domain  of  ridicule. 
Now  I  hate  to  be  laughed  at,  even  by  people 
whom  I  despise.  I  could  stand  their  frowns 
or  their  sneers  much  better.  I  can  give  you 
no  idea  of  what  chagrin  it  causes  me  to  know 
L.dt  many  of  my  sister's  friends  criticise  me 
as  '  rather  superior.'  To  be  rather  superior, 
with  them,  is  much  the  same  as  if  one  should 
have  a  bonnet  that  was  in  bad  taste.  I  have 
the  most  feminine  disgust  for  a  bonnet  in  bad 
taste.  And  so  I  take  the  first  extreme,  in  a 
sort  of  desperation.  I  exert  myself  to  be  as 
frivolous  as  I  can.  I  am  morbidly  afraid  of 
being  relegated  among  the  spectacled  reform 
ers.  The  attitude  of  championizing  my  own 
sex  does  n't  at  all  suit  me.  I  am  not  sure  that 
the  sex  needs  to  be  championized  ;  I  am  in 
hopes  that  it  will  secure  all  it  deserves  in  a 
less  melodramatic  way.  So  you  see  that  my 
position  —  though  I  don't  know  if  you  care  to 
see  anything  about  my  position  —  is  a  kind  of 
cowardly  compromise." 

"  I  care  a  great  deal,"  said  Wainwright 
with  direct  candor.  "  But  I  confess,"  he  went 
on,  "  that  I  must  hear  your  case  defended  a 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  79 

little  before  I  quite  understand  its  peculiar 
grievances.  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  can 
make  an  able  defense.  I  am  already  enlisted 
among  your  sympathizers,  so  to  speak.  You 
shall  probably  find  me  a  most  willing  con 
vert." 

Miss  Cheever  raised  her  brows  as  he  ended, 
and  he  thought  that  a  soft  flash  left  her  eyes  ; 
he  was  sure  indeed  that  the  mobile  line  of  her 
mouth  took  an  almost  stern  curve.  Her 
voice,  when  she  spoke,  had  a  piqued  ring  that 
wholly  confirmed  his  first  swift  impression  of 
having  unwittingly  wounded  her. 

"  Really,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  treat  me  as 
if  I  were  openly  posing  for  a  martyr  !  Pray  be 
assured  that  I  meant  to  do  nothing  of  the 
sort." 

"  I  did  n't  suspect  you  of  it,"  said  Wain- 
wright,  with  fluent  apology.  "  Please  pardon 
me  if  in  siding  with  your  opinions  my  zeal  was 
too  premature  to  be  discreet." 

Before  she  could  answer  this  diplomatic 
stroke  of  courtesy,  Mrs.  Spring  was  heard  call 
ing  across  the  room.  "  I  am  not  going  to  let 
Ruth  monopolize  you  !  "  cried  the  little  lady  to 
Wainwright.  "  Let  me  make  you  know  these 


80  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE, 

gentlemen,"  she  continued,  sweeping  one  hand 
toward  her  three  surrounders,  who  all  rose 
and  bowed  as  she  dashed  off  their  names.  It 
struck  Wain wright,  as  he  also  rose  and  bowed, 
that  the  three  gentlemen  were  all  strongly 
similar  in  appearance.  Each  was  blond,  each 
slender,  and  each  in  full  evening  dress. 
"  They  're  all  frightfully  English  in  their  tastes," 
continued  Mrs.  Spring,  referring  to  this  elegant 
young  trio,  "  so  you  ought  to  like  them." 

The  three  young  gentlemen  laughed.  They 
each  laughed,  as  it  were,  to  the  same  degree, 
and  with  some  embarrassment.  Then  all 
rubbed  their  hands  together  a  little,  spread 
their  legs  slightly  apart,  leaned  their  elbows 
upon  their  knees,  and  with  drooped  heads  ex 
changed  covert  glances  of  amusement. 

Mrs.  Spring  soon  broke  the  brief  yet  awk 
ward  silence  that  followed.  "  But  they  're 
enormously  nice  fellows,"  she  said,  still  allud 
ing  to  her  guests.  "  I  don't  know  what  I 
should  do  without  them  ;  they  are  so  good  to 
me  at  parties."  She  was  leaning  back  in  her 
great  chair;  she  had  joined  both  hands  and 
put  them  behind  her  head  ;  her  dimpled  arms 
each  formed  a  right  angle  ;  the  posture  wouk1 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  8  I 

have  been  execrably  out  of  taste  with  almost 
any  other  woman;  she  assumed  it  with  a  fe 
licity  that  did  not  save  it  from  being  out  of 
taste,  but  freed  it  from  offensive  coarseness, 
and  perhaps  made  it  uniquely  picturesque, 
"  Now  there  is  Ruth/'  proceeded  Mrs.  Spring, 
with  merciless  personality,  throwing  a  full,  bold 
look  toward  her  sister.  "  She  affects  not  to 
care  a  bit  whether  she  receives  attention  or 
no.  She  goes  in  for  the  bored  manner;  don't 
you,  Ruth,  dear  ?  I  don't  know  how  long  she 
means  to  keep  it  up.  My  theory  is  that  nothing 
succeeds  so  ill  as  the  bored  manner.  Every 
body  thinks  that  he  is  the  special  object  of 
your  ennui,  in  that  case,  and  flies  from  you  like 
a  plague.  I  am  ever  so  much  more  sensible. 
When  I'm  bored  in  the  most  deadly  way  I 
cultivate  my  best  smiles." 

"  I  shall  be  afraid  of  you,  after  this,  when 
you  are  particularly  nice,"  said  one  of  the 
gentlemen  who  sat  near  Mrs.  Spring. 

A  laugh  followed  this  speech,  confined 
among  the  special  group  surrounding  her  to 
whom  it  was  addressed.  In  the  midst  of  the 
laugh  Mrs.  Spring  made  some  merry  retort, 
only  audible  to  her  own  limited  circle. 
6 


82  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Just  then  Wainwright  felt  a  light  touch  upon 
his  arm.  He  turned,  and  saw  that  a  new  look, 
as  eager  as  it  was  transient,  had  overspread 
Miss  Cheever's  face. 

"  My  sister  is  in  one  of  her  unpleasant 
moods  to-night,"  she  said,  very  quickly,  and 
below  her  breath.  "  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of 
you." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  That  you  will  not  stay  longer.  I  know  it 
must  seem  very  strange  for  me  to  ask  you  this. 
.  .  .  But  when  we  meet  again  —  as  I  hope 
we  shall  —  I  will  try  to  explain  myself  more 
clearly." 

"  If  your  sister  is  rude  to  you,"  persisted 
Wainwright,  "  why  do  you  not  pay  her  back 
in  her  own  coin  ?  I  am  sure  you  are  quite 
capable  of  it." 

"Pray,  hush!"  murmured  his  companion. 
"  She  is  looking  at  us  even  while  the  others 
are  speaking  to  her."  For  a  moment  Ruth 
Cheever's  eyes  wore  an  expression  of  surpass- 
.ng  melancholy.  "  You  wish  to  hear  my  case 
defended.  You  might  do  so  if  you  remained  ; 
my  sister  could  let  you  into  the  secret  of  why 
ny  surroundings  satisfy  me  so  ill.  But  I  would 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  83 

rather  make  the  defense  myself,  at  some  other 
time." 

She  spoke  with  great  speed  and  very  low. 
Her  delicate  chin  had  a  pathetic  quiver;  some 
thing  almost  tragic  in  her  face  was  struggling 
with  an  evident  effort  to  appear  indifferent  and 
serene ;  the  change  was  obvious  to  Wainwright 
only  because  of  his  extreme  nearness.  "  I  un 
derstand,"  he  said,  feeling  an  actual  pang  of 
pity. 

"  I  am  afraid  Ruth  is  talking  books  to  you  !" 
cried  Mrs.  Spring,  just  at  this  point,  once  more 
addressing  Wainwright.  "  It 's  so  dreadful  of 
her  to  do  it.  She  has  no  mercy  on  people." 

Wainwright  rose.  He  felt  exceedingly  an 
gry.  "  Miss  Cheever  was  not  talking  of  books," 
he  said,  in  his  rich,  gentle  voice,  "  and  I  am  in 
clined  to  think  that  she  has  more  mercy  than 
you  have." 

He  at  once  turned  and  shook  hands  with 
Ruth.  While  she  observed  the  action,  Mrs. 
Spring  protested  against  so  early  a  departure. 
But  Wainwright  went  up  and  shook  hands 
with  her  before  the  protest  had  ended,  merely 
saying  some  polite  words  which  signified  his 
firm  intention  of  going  at  once.  He  then 


84  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

bowed  to  Miss  Lydia,  to  her  dark-visaged  ad 
herent,  and  to  the  gentlemen  who  sat  near  Mrs. 
Spring. 

"  I  know  that  Ruth  has  frightened  you 
away!"  exclaimed  his  hostess.  "  Pray  tell  me 
what  she  did  it  with.  Was  it  the  rights  of 
woman  or  mental  philosophy?" 

"  Oh,  Fanny  !  "  cried  Lydia  from  her  corner, 
in  piping,  juvenile  tones,  "you  really  ought  to 
draw  it  milder  with  Ruth.  If  I  were  she  I 
would  n't  stand  it.  I  'd  just  give  you  back  as 
good  as  I  got !  " 

Miss  Lydia  ended  these  words  with  a  pert 
toss  of  the  head,  and  looked  toward  Mr.  Aber- 
nethy,  as  if  for  supporting  acquiescence.  The 
latter  broke  into  a  silent  laugh  of  great  seem 
ing  amusement,  and  made  some  rapid  reply, 
only  loud  enough  for  the  young  lady  to  whom 
he  addressed  it. 

"  Miss  Cheever  has  been  very  far  from 
frightening  me  away,"  said  Wainwright.  "  In 
deed,  Mrs.  Spring,"  he  proceeded,  "  meeting 
your  sister  has  created  an  additional  induce 
ment  for  me  to  repeat  the  present  visit." 

"Bravo  !  "  cried  Lydia,  clapping  her  hands 
"  I  do  hope  you  will  repeat  it,  if  only  to  give 
Fanny  a  lesson  in  good  manners." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  85 

But  before  this  courageous  little  shaft  had 
flown  home,  so  to  speak,  Wainwright  had  with 
drawn  from  the  room.  Ruth  Cheever's  face 
had  been  the  last  that  his  look  rested  upon  be 
fore  crossing  the  threshhold.  She  was  paler  ; 
she  had  lowered  her  eyes  ;  he  thought  he  saw 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  quivering. 

"  That  girl  is  a  martyr,"  he  told  himself,  as 
he  was  putting  on  his  overcoat  in  the  hall. 
And  at  the  same  moment  he  realized  that  he 
had  conceived  a  strong  dislike  for  Mrs.  Spring. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  make  his  final  exit 
by  the  hall  door,  he  heard  a  grating  sound  out 
side,  and  suddenly  felt  the  door  itself  pushed 
in  his  own  direction.  The  next  instant  Mr. 
Townsend  Spring  became  visible,  latch-key  in 
hand.  He  had  on  an  overcoat  of  pale  yellow 
cloth,  studded  with  huge  pearl  buttons,  and  a 
high  opera-hat  tipped  considerably  sideways. 
His  glimpse  of  white  neck-tie,  his  brilliant 
boots,  and  his  black  trousers  told  that  he  was 
in  evening  costume.  His  face  looked  more 
flushed  than  when  Wainwright  had  last  seen 
»t  in  the  full  sunlight  on  Broadway.  He  dif 
fused  a  distinct  odor  of  mingled  tobacco  and 
brandy.  His  manner  somehow  lacked  its  usual 


86  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

bluff  jollity,  but  he  showed  decided  warmth  of 
welcome. 

"  Confound  it,  old  fellow,"  he  said,  while 
shaking  Wainwright's  hand,  "  I  'm  devilish 
sorry  I  missed  you.  What  are  you  going  so 
soon  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  made  quite  a  long  visit,"  said 
Wainwright. 

Townsend  Spring  took  off  his  hat,  rapidly 
compressed  it  into  a  state  of  flat  collapse,  and 
flung  it  upon  a  table  at  his  side.  He  passed 
one  hand  over  his  forehead,  for  an  instant, 
closing  his  eyes. 

"  I  Ve  been  having  an  infernal  time  in  Wall 
Street,  to-day,"  he  said.  "  I  came  home  early 
to-night  because  I  was  so  deucedly  fagged  out." 
He  now  abruptly  placed  a  hand  on  Wain- 
wright's  shoulder,  and  as  he  did  so  the  latter 
\  erceived  a  confusion  in  his  manner  and  speech, 
whose  origin  seemed  midway  between  some 
mental  distress  and  the  turbulence  caused  by 
undue  stimulant.  "  I  've  put  you  down  at 
the  club,"  he  proceeded,  with  the  air  of  one 
who  suddenly  recollects  an  important  point. 
"You'll  get  the  invitation  at  your  hotel;  I 
ordered  it  sent  there.  We  must  dine  there 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  8/ 

together.  ...  I  '11  send  you  word  when  it  '11 
be.  ...  Just  now  I'm  too  bothered  in  my 
head  to  name  a  clay."  Here  he  paused,  and 
pointed  toward  the  tapestried  door-way  from 
which  Wainwright  had  recently  emerged. 
"Who  's  in  there  with  Fanny  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Your  sister  and  Miss  Cheever,"  said  Wain 
wright. 

"  Lyddy  and  Ruth.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  of  course. 
I  mean,  are  there  any  men  ?  " 

Wainwright  tried  to  recollect  the  names  of 
the  male  guests  to  whom  he  had  been  presented. 
But  the  result  of  his  effort  was  only  to  say,  — 

"There  are  three  gentlemen  whose  names  I 
don't  recall ;  and  there  is  a  Mr.  Abernethy, 
who  is  talking,  I  believe,  to  your  sister." 

"  Jim  Abernethy  ?  Yes,  of  course,"  said 
Townsend  Spring.  And  then  he  looked  down 
for  a  moment,  and  muttered  under  his  ample 
moustache  a  few  brief  words  that  were  flavored 
with  a  sullen  hostility.  Wainwright  naturally 
bethought  himself  of  what  he  had  heard  Mr. 
Binghamton  say  regarding  the  attentions  of 
Mr.  Abernethy  to  Townsend  Spring's  sister, 
and  he  might,  under  present  circumstances, 
have  felt  a  keener  embarrassment  if  it  had  not 


88  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

been  evident  to  him  that  the  man  who  thus 
spoke  employed  only  the  random  force  of 
clouded  faculties. 

Townsend  Spring's  covert  indignation  last 
ed  but  a  few  seconds.  His  attention  was  sud 
denly  attracted  by  a  tasteful  lamp  of  stained 
glass  that  directly  faced  him,  pendent  from 
the  ceiling  above,  and  flooding  the  draperied 
hall  with  delightful  radiance. 

"  Well,  by  Jove,"  he  exclaimed,  staring  at 
the  lamp,  "so  Fanny  's  done  it,  no  matter  what 
I  said!  Just  like  her.  I  knew  she  would. 
She's  always  buying  new  things  for  the  house. 
I  've  got  to  foot  another  big  bill.  I  'rn  always 
footing  big  bills."  Here  the  speaker  shook 
his  head  absently,  with  an  air  of  doleful  rumi 
nation. 

Wainwright  felt  like  shrugging  his  shoulders 
in  hearty  unconcern.  But  instead  of  this  he 
opened  the  hall  door  again,  and  quietly  wished 
Townsend  Spring  good-night.  The  latter  once 
more  grasped  his  hand  and  proposed  that  he 
should  remain  longer.  But  Wainwright,  with 
che  most  apposite  excuse  he  could  master, 
presently  secured  an  exit  from  the  house.  He 
•valked  with  brisk  steps  for  several  blocks 
He  was  thinking  of  all  he  had  seen. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  89 

"  A  girl  of  fine  mind  and  wholesome  im 
pulses,"  ran  his  thoughts,  "  who  is  engfrt  by 
three  people  quite  her  inferiors.  Mrs.  Spring 
is  aggressive  and  impertinent  ;  Lydia  is  vulgar 
and  capricious  ;  Townsend  Spring  is  fast  and 
abominable.  What  an  atmosphere  to  breathe 
in  !  " 

It  is  needless  to  state  that  he  was  think 
ing  of  Ruth  Cheever.  Some  time  after  he 
had  regained  his  hotel  that  evening,  and,  in 
deed,  while  composing  himself  to  sleep,  he 
was  haunted  by  the  memory  of  two  sweetly 
sombre  eyes,  and  stirred  with  an  unwonted 
pity  for  one  whom  fate  seemed  schooling  to 
fortitude  under  needless  rigors. 


VI. 

IN  invitation,  granting  him  access  to 
the  Metropolitan  Club,  awaited  Wain- 
wright  at  his  hotel.  On  the  following 
morning  he  also  received  a  card  for  the  ball 
at  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  that  same  evening,  ac 
companied  by  a  polite  note  from  Mr.  Boden 
stein,  who  had  used  his  august  social  author 
ity  in  securing  this  privilege. 

During  a  greater  portion  of  the  day  Wain- 
wright  was  in  converse  with  his  lawyers,  and 
he  escaped  from  their  dismal  monopoly  only 
at  a  late  hour  in  the  afternoon.  He  then  re 
turned  to  his  hotel,  dressed  for  the  evening, 
and  went  forth  to  stroll  in  Fifth  Avenue.  He 
had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when  he  met 
Mr.  Binghamton,  walking  at  the  side  of  a  stout 
elderly  lady  of  majestic  carriage  and  hand 
some  aquiline  face.  Mr.  Binghamton  was 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  91 

laughing  and  gesticulating  ;  he  appeared  to  be 
in  the  act  of  imparting  to  the  lady  some  rare  bit 
of  pleasantry.  The  two  men  exchanged  bows, 
and  Wainwright  passed  onward.  But  perhaps 
three  minutes  later  he  heard  his  name  rather 
excitedly  pronounced  from  behind,  and  imme 
diately  afterward  Mr.  Binghamfcon  joined  him. 

"  I  've  just  left  Mrs.  Spencer  Vandervoort," 
said  the  Englishman,  in  his  voluble  way. 
"  She 's  one  of  the  cleverest  women  in  New 
York  ;  she  and  I  are  devoted  friends.  Did  you 
observe  her  at  all  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Wainwright.  "  She  had  a 
very  striking  appearance." 

"  Oh,  of  course.  She  looks  like  an  English 
duchess,  though  I  've  seen  English  duchesses 
who  were  remarkably  dowdy  and  dull.  But  it 
is  n't  only  her  appearance  that  makes  one  like 
her.  Oh,  by  no  means  !  She's  so  confound 
edly  bright.  But  she  has  her  faults.  They  're 
immensely  amusing  faults.  She 's  always  ask 
ing  favors  of  a  fellow.  It 's  extraordinary,  the 
way  that  woman  gets  just  what  she  wants  out 
of  society.  She's  a  type,  my  dear  Wainwright; 
she  would  amuse  you.  I  know  of  five  sepa 
rate  female  friends  of  hers  from  whom  she 


92  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

habitually  secures  some  sort  of  distinct  serv 
ice  at  least  once  a  month.  Sometimes  it  is 
an  opera-box  ;  sometimes  a  carriage  to  pay  off 
her  visits  in.  She  has  a  vast  amount  of  visits 
to  pay  off.  She  simply  knows  everybody  and 
goes  everywhere.  I  'm  not  a  circumstance  to 
her,  in  that  way.  She  was  ill  for  several  days 
last  year,  and  on  getting  well  she  moaned  to 
an  intimate,  '  Just  think  of  it !  I  have  missed 
eighteen  invitations  ! '  She  is  usually  in  per 
fect  health,  and  so  never  misses  anything. 
Her  health  is  such  a  brilliantly  fine  affair  that 
I  often  believe  she  must  borrow  it  from  some 
body,  as  she  does  all  the  fresh  novels.  She 
goes  to  every  new  play  that  appears  ;  some 
body  always  takes  her.  I  've  taken  her  innu 
merable  times;  the  first  thing  that  I  know  she 
has  contrived  to  make  me  ask  her." 

"  I  am  curious  to  meet  this  extraordinary 
lady,"  said  Wainwright 

Mr.  Binghamton  gave  a  short  laugh  as  they 
walked  on.  "  Of  course  you  will  meet  her," 
he  said.  "•  You  could  no  more  escape  her  than 
if  she  were  a  fate.  Oh,  she  has  already  heard 
all  about  you.  You  are  doomed  to  be  at  one 
of  her  Saturday  evenings." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  93 

"Ah,"  said  Wain wright  ;  "then  she  enter 
tains  ? " 

"  Yes.  I  believe  it  is  one  Saturday  every 
month.  She  gives  her  guests  a  pink  drink 
that  I  have  never  been  rash  enough  to  taste. 
There  is  an  ancient  tradition  that  cochineal, 
not  claret,  is  its  chief  ingredient.  She  is  per 
fectly  shameless  about  poking  it  at  people 
and  saying :  "  My  punch  has  no  to-morrow." 
I  always  feel  that  /  should  have  none  if  I  ven 
tured  a  glass  of  it." 

"  Such  unblushing  economies,"  laughed 
Wainwright,  "  ought  to  impair  her  popularity." 

"  Oh,  she  's  abominated  by  a  lot  of  people. 
But  not  specially  for  that  reason.  It  's  be 
cause  of  her  clever  tongue,  her  ready  wit,  her 
really  superior  mind.  All  the  fashionable  fools 
hate  her,  and  it 's  her  own  fault ;  she  has  no 
place  among  them.  Why,  that  woman  has  the 
ability  to  organize  a  salon  that  might  become 
famous.  But  she  has  never  learned  the  art  of 
growing  old  ;  nor  has  she  an  idea  of  keeping 
herself  select.  She  will  leave  a  miscellaneous 
gathering  at  Mrs.  Lucretia  Bateson  Bangs's, 
the  newspaper  correspondent's,  to  attend  a 
ball  at  the  Bodensteins,  where  Amsterdams 


94  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

beam  upon  Spuytenduyvils  and  snobbery  rules 
the  roast." 

"  I  suppose  she  will  be  at  the  Grosvenors' 
ball  this  evening,"  said  Wainwright. 

"  Yes,  and  a  lot  of  other  places  before  it. 
She  will  have  on  a  yellow  dress  garnished  with 
i  sd  rosebuds.  An  unholy  wit  whom  I  know 
said  that  it  makes  her  look  like  a  blood  orange. 
She  will  wear  that  dress  right  through  the 
season  at  all  the  large  entertainments.  There  's 
a  notorious  parsimony  about  it.  I  forgot  to 
tell  you,  by  the  way,  that  her  husband  is  a 
prosperous  sugar-merchant." 

Shortly  afterward  Mr.  Binghamton  learned 
that  Wainwright  would  be  among  the  guests 
at  the  Grosvenors'  ball.  "  It  will  be  a  superb 
opportunity  for  you  to  see  one  of  the  patrician 
crushes,"  he  said.  He  then  proposed  that  they 
should  dine  together  at  the  Metropolitan  Club, 
and  attend  the  festivity  later.  "  It 's  a  wonder 
that  Townsend  Spring  remembered  to  write 
you  down  at  the  club,"  he  proceeded,  on  hear 
ing  this  fact  from  Wainwright.  "  I  supposed 
his  wild  Wall  Street  ventures  must  have  left 
him  awfully  demoralized.  It's  the  most  ex 
traordinary  thing  how  he  has  managed  to  sai' 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  95 

thus  far  through  all  financial  weathers.  God 
knows  when  he  may  strike  a  reef  and  go  quite 
to  pieces." 

Wainwright  turned  quickly  toward  the 
speaker.  "  In  that  case,"  he  asked,  "  would 
Miss  Cheever  be  a  sufferer?  " 

"  Sufferer  !  "  echoed  Mr.  Binghamton.  He 
passed  his  arm  into  Wainwright' s.  "  I  don't 
believe  the  wife  and  sister  would  have  a  penny 
of  their  own.  Townsend  fell  in  with  Fanny 
Cheever  somewhere  off  in  the  country  ;  I  forget 
where  it  was.  She  was  living  there  with  her 
mother  and  Miss  Ruth.  The  mother  is  dead 
now,  and  I  suspect  that  Townsend  has  '  manip 
ulated  '  whatever  slender  patrimony  came  to 
i  he  two  sisters.  It  would  go  with  the  wreck, 
when  the  wreck  occurred  ;  there  is  n't  a  doubt 
of  that.  Mind  you,  I  don't  mean  a  word  against 
Townsend  Spring.  He  's  a  horrible  cad,  as  I 
told  you  ;  but  I  fancy  him  quite  honest.  Still, 
he  's  a  speculator  ;  he  lives  on  risks  and  haz 
ards.  The  market  will  leave  him  high  and  dry, 
some  day  ;  he  's  bound  to  be  cleaned  out,  as 
they  phrase  it.  I'm  afraid  you  don't  under 
stand  me,  because  you  don't  understand  Wall 
Street." 


)6  A    GENTLEMAN   OF  LEISUPE. 

"  I  understand  the  keeping  of  a  trust,  —  not 
stealing  others'  money,  however  a  man  may 
make  ducks  and  drakes  of  his  own,"  said 
Wainwright,  with  positiveness. 

"  True,"  replied  Mr.  Binghamton.  "  Here 
we  are  at  the  club,"  he  continued,  as  they 
neared  a  palatial  building,  with  spacious  plate- 
-glass  windows  and  a  door-way  of  imposing 
grandeur.  They  soon  passed  through  this  en 
trance,  and  found  themselves  in  a  lofty  hall 
with  which  two  reading-rooms  connected,  each 
of  noble  proportions  and  splendid  upholstery. 
Wainwright  was  decidedly  impressed.  He  had 
seen  few  clubs  in  London  on  a  like  scale  of 
magnificence.  He  and  Mr.  Binghamton  pres 
ently  seated  themselves  in  one  of  the  lordly 
rooms  ;  they  were  served  by  a  nimble  butler 
with  something  to  sharpen  appetite  ;  a  little 
later  they  were  taken  up-stairs  to  dinner  in  an 
elevator  with  seats  of  crimson  velvet  and 
richly  gilded  panels.  The  dining-room,  situ- 
uted  at  the  top  of  the  building,  was  appointed 
with  numerous  small  tables,  nearly  all  of  which 
were  now  occupied  by  members  of  the  club. 
Silver  dishes  gleamed  against  snowy  linen  ; 
attendants  in  picturesque  livery  glided  to  anci 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  97 

fro.  The  walls  were  frescoed  in  some  sort  of 
Pompeian  arabesque  and  filigree ;  the  chan 
deliers  were  of  striking  design  ;  everything 
was  on  a  plan  of  extreme  elegance.  When, 
soon  afterward,  their  dinner  was  served,  Wain- 
wright  found  it  exquisitely  palatable. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  nearly  everybody 
here,"  said  Wainwright,  observing  that  his 
host  bowed  in  several  directions. 

"Yes,  nearly,"  was  the  reply.  "The  Met 
ropolitan  has  a  lot  of  different  sets  in  it.  It 's 
a  queer  sort  of  place,  this  Metropolitan.  Not 
long  ago  some  of  the  men  here  got  shocked 
with  it  because  it  was  so  democratic,  and  or 
ganized  an  infernally  select  club  which  they 
called  The  Gramercy.  But  The  Gramercy  has 
been  a  failure.  Nobody  goes  there.  Its  pa 
trons  belong  to  it,  you  understand,  and  that 's 
about  all.  They  damn  this,  don't  you  know, 
but  they  come  here,  all  the  same." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  some  of  your  aristo 
crats  pointed  out,"  said  Wainwright,  with  in 
quisitive  composure 

Mr.  Binghamton  took  a  draught  of  the  ex 
cellent  claret  which  his   hospitality  had    sup 
plied,  wiped  his  comic  red  moustache  free  oi 
7 


98  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

darkening   moisture,    and    looked    about    the 
large   room   with   little  nervous    jerks  of    the 
'   neck. 

"  I  '11  do  what  I  can  for  you/'  he  said,  with 
laughing  complaisance.  "  Upon  my  word, 
what  an  observer  you  are  !  If  you  preserve 
this  inexorable  spirit  of  inquiry  you  will  attain 
a  knowledge  of  your  own  country  that  must 
do  you  shining  credit." 

"  I  should  call  it  a  creditable  thing  to  know 
one's  own  country,"  said  Wainwright.  As  he 
thus  spoke,  the  words  somehow  seemed  to 
himself  another's,  not  his.  Only  a  little  time 
ago  he  would  never  have  thought  to  frame  a 
sentence  with  even  this  moderate  glitter  of 
loyalty  in  it  ;  but  now  a  light  stir  of  the  blood 
went  with  his  speech  ;  it  was  like  a  delicate 
thrill  of  self-gratulation. 

"  Do  you  see  that  fleshy  man  with  the  wide 
nose  and  sorrel  whiskers  ?  He  's  one  of  our 
governing  committee.  He  has  an  old  Knick 
erbocker  name  and  a  great  lot  of  money.  In 
England  he  might  be  a  duke,  or  something  in 
that  line.  There's  very  little  of  him,  but  he 
onts  on  really  terrible  airs." 

"  He  appears  a  very  gentlemanly  person,' 
said  Wainwright,  with  critical  deliberation. 


A    GENTLEMAX  OF  LEISURE.  99 

«  Oh,  yes,  confound  it !     That 's  all  he  thinks 

about." 

"  It  is  a  great  deal  to  think  about,"  said 
Wain wright,  softly.  "  It  is  quite  a  comprehen 
sive  idea,  if  a  man  chooses  to  give  it  full  atten 
tion.  I  don't  know  that  it  would  not  last  a 

life-time." 

Mr.  Binghamton  continued  his  airy  specifi 
cations.  "  The  short  man  that  our  grandee  is 
dining  with  is  a  powerful  banker.  He  's  not 
like  Bodenstein  ;  he  had  ancestors  that  gave 
tea-parties  and  stepped  through  cotillions,  fifty 
years  ago,  in  their  prim  homes  on  Bowling 
Green  or  along  the  Battery.  Now  he  's  got  a 
palace  up  the  Avenue,  and  a  wife  and  daughter 
who  rule  society." 

Wainwright  gave  his  vis-a-vis  a  surprised 
look.  "Englishman  though  you  are,"  he  said, 
smiling,  "  I  am  afraid  that  you  know  more  of 
what  New  York  used  to  be  than  I  know  of 
what  it  is." 

"  It  used  to  be  a  dreadfully  dull  place,  I  sus 
pect,"  said  Mr.  Binghamton.  "  I  know  an 
elderly  lady  who  first  saw  the  light  in  a  roomy 
old  house  near  Washington  Square,  in  the 
.ower  part  of  Fifth  Avenue.  There  were  scv 


100  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

eral  daughters  ;    they  were  all  beautiful,  and 
had  been  abroad  and  got  foreign  ideas,  at  a 
time  when  foreign  ideas  were  held  abominable 
by   your    strait-laced    progenitors.       One    day 
two  of  them  went  cantering  up  the  Avenue  on 
horseback,  with  a  mounted  groom  following. 
The    next  day   an   article   appeared    in   '  The 
Evening    Post/    on   the    bad   taste   of    certain 
New  Yorkers  who  aped  the  manners  of  Lon 
don.      Was  n't    that    deliriously   provincial  ?  " 
concluded  Mr.  Binghamton,  looking  at  his  com 
panion  over  the  rim  of  his  wineglass. 

Wainwright  remembered  how  Mrs.  Spring 
had  anathematized  modern  New  York  for  this 
same  imitative  habit.  "  I  fancy  the  daily  jour 
nals  would  have  some  hard  fighting,"  he  said, 
"if  they  should  wage  a  similar  crusade  now 
adays." 

"  Aha,"  laughed  Mr.  Binghamton,  "  I  suspect 
that  other  people  than  I  have  been  telling  you 
it 's  the  fashion,  over  here,  to  reverence  the 
mother  country."  He  suddenly  lowered  his 
voice  and  leaned  a  little  forward.  "  This  young 
fellow  at  our  right,  —  notice  him  ;  I  mean  the 
one  nearest  you.  You  know  the  other  one,  — 
Gansevoort ;  he  was  at  the  Bodensteins'  dinner 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  IOI 


You  remember  his  name,  i'^oii't/you  K.rV 
Horn  Vanderventer.  ,His  people^  date  >  back, 
among  your  Peter  StttyWsaBt.  iliys.*'  -He  '-arid  J 
his  brother  own  three  solid  blocks  of  houses 
facing  Central  Park,  besides  several  empty  lots 
in  its  near  neighborhood.  They  Ve  been  the 
object  of  a  sort  of  absurd  hereditary  conspir 
acy  on  the  part  of  several  deceased  maiden 
aunts.  He  's  enormously  muscular,  though 
he  does  n't  look  it.  He  spars  famously,  plays 
polo,  and  follows  the  hounds  in  a  near  county, 
where  they  actually  torture  several  imported 
foxes  each  year,  and  leap  fences  on  thorough 
breds  with  all  the  grand  horsemanship  of  their 
transpontine  cousins.  His  brother,  who  is  one 
of  the  nicest  fellows  in  the  world,  and  a  won 
derful  gentleman  besides,  drives  a  coach  regu 
larly  each  day  during  the  milder  season,  start 
ing  from  a  popular  hotel  in  the  city,  and 
carrying  passengers  several  miles  beyond  the 
suburban  limits.  I  need  n't  tell  you  what  that 
sort  of  exploit  is  copied  from  ;  you  must  know 
all  about  it,  having  lived  so  near  the  original 
source  of  the  imitation." 

"  You  are  a  most  capable  cicerone"  said 
vVainwright,  smiling  again.  <l  I  think  I  am 
<-ery  fortunate  to  have  fallen  in  with  you." 


IO2  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

""Then  there  Is  'that  lean  little  man  on  our 
Jeft,"r pursued  Mr.  Binghamton,  in  a  sort  of  ex- 
pi  all  Story-  carnival'  '  '-'He's  dining  with  .  .  . 
Bless  me,  if  I  know  whom  he  is  dining  with  ! 
...  It 's  some  new  member  or  a  visitor.  .  .  . 
I  'd  surely  know  him  if  it  were  not.  He  's 
himself  a  lawyer,  who  makes  a  clean  seventy 
thousand  a  year.  He  's  splendid  company,  a 
great  wit,  and  people  break  their  necks  to  treat 
him  civilly.  .  .  .  Just  beyond  his  table  is  a  fat 
man  with  two  chins  .  .  .  have  you  got  him  ? 
Well,  he  and  his  wife  came  from  nowhere  ;  but 
he  has  a  place  in  the  custom-house  as  fat  as 
himself,  and  he  gives  dinners  that  elevate 
the  soul  :  the  table  banked  with  flowers  in 
January,  and  a  fountain  playing  in  the  middle, 
with  a  pair  of  swans  floating  round  in  a  min 
iature  lake,  —  actual  fact !  " 

"They  must  be  very  well-behaved  swans," 
said  Wainwright,  dryly.  "Perhaps  he  edu 
cates  them  from  the  egg  up.  .  .  .  And  now," 
he  continued,  with  those  smooth  tones  of  his, 
where  satire  would  sometimes  sleep  like  phos 
phorescence  in  unstirred  water,  "pray  show 
me  some  of  your  plebeians.  Where  are  they  ? ' 

"  Don't  you  see  that  large  round  table  yon 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  103 

der  ?  There  are  seven  of  them  dining  to 
gether,  —  all  Wall  Street  men.  They  're  mostly 
very  clever  fellows,  those  young  stock-brokers  ; 
why  should  n't  they  be  ?  They  live  by  their  wits. 
I  don't  doubt  there  are  more  good  things  being- 
said  at  that  table  than  in  all  the  rest  of  the 
room.  Why,  half  the  wit  of  the  day  comes 
out  of  Wall  Street."  .  .  . 

After  dining  they  went  down-stairs  again, 
and  had  their  coffee  and  cigars  in  the  great 
lower  hall.  Wainwright  soon  discovered  that 
his  new  friend  was  an  extremely  popular  club 
man.  Mr.  Binghamton  left  him  seated  alone 
for  some  little  time,  while  shaking  hands  with 
this  or  that  friend  in  the  various  groups  that 
filled  the  hall.  Occasionally  the  Englishman 
would  bend  down  and  whisper  a  sentence  in 
some  gentleman's  ear,  or  encircle  his  nerk 
transiently  with  one  arm,  after  the  most  inti 
mate  fashion.  Mr.  Binghamton  was  evidently 
at  home  in  all  the  cliques.  Wainwright  sat 
still,  drank  his  coffee,  smoked  his  cigar,  and 
observed.  Scarcely  a  yard  from  him  was  a 
knot  of  men  who  had  mostly  just  quitted  the 
dining-room,  like  himself.  Their  voices  were 
quite  audible  to  him.  One  of  the  group  was 


104  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Mr.  Gansevoort ;  another  was  the  gentleman 
who  had  duteously  replaced  the  coal-scuttle  at 
Mrs.  Spring's  command.  Both  bowed  as  they 
caught  Wainwright's  eye.  Brisk  conversation 
had  risen  among  their  companions.  Wain- 
wright  could  scarcely  choose  but  listen  to  it. 

"  I  '11  bet  twenty  to  ten,"  exclaimed  a  voice, 
"  that  Frank  Van  Tassell  can  thrash  George 
Faulkner  with  the  gloves  !  I  Ve  seen  Frank 
spar.  He  's  a  devilish  tough  fellow.  Who  '11 
take  me  ? " 

"  There  's  not  the  slightest  use  of  betting," 
said  a  second  voice.  "We  can't  get  up  the 
match.  George  could  n't  be  induced  to  box 
anybody.  He  thinks  of  nothing  but  dog-fights 
nowadays." 

"  I  've  got  a  dog,"  cried  a  third  voice,  "that 
can  whip  any  dog  in  the  United  States  ! " 

A  general  laugh  followed  these  words.  Be 
fore  it  ended  Mr.  Binghamton  had  again  ap 
proached  Wainwright.  "  Won't  you  come  up 
stairs,"  he  said,  "  and  look  about  a  little  ?" 

Wainwright  promptly  acquiesced.  They 
ascended  a  broad  stairway,  entered  another 
Stately  hall,  and  visited  two  rooms,  one  de 
voted  to  billiards,  another  to  cards.  Each  was 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  1 05 

a  model  of  artistic  beauty.  In  each  the  ac 
commodations  for  pastime  were  sumptuously 
complete.  Ebony  mantels,  velvety  carpets, 
drooping  portieres,  unique  frescoes  or  paper- 
mgs,  combined  in  the  happiest  effects  of 
adornment  and  comfort.  Wainwright  noted 
everything  with  interest,  but  his  mind  dwelt 
sufficiently  upon  another  matter  for  him  to 
say,  during  this  tour  of  inspection,  — 

"  I  heard  a  few  scraps  of  conversation 
among  the  men  with  whom  Mr.  Gansevoort 
was  talking,  down  in  the  other  hall.  The 
party  looked  and  spoke  a  good  deal  in  the 
English  manner,  but  their  conversation  was 
extremely  muscular.  Is  it  always  like  that?  " 

Mr.  Binghamton  turned  quickly,  and  burst 
into  one  of  his  fresh,  light-comedy  laughs. 
"I'm  afraid  it  is,"  he  said.  "  Those  fellows 
are  always  talking  like  a  lot  of  jockeys. 
They  're  immensely  gentlemanly,  however.  I 
suppose  their  love  for  all  kinds  of  sporting 
matters  naturally  results  from  their  idle  lives. 
They  nearly  all  have  large  incomes.  They 
are  your  jeunesse  argente'e,  you  know.  They 
•nave  nothing  to  do  except  bet  and  ride  and 
Irive  their  four-in-hands." 


IC6  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  They  might  find  other  things  to  do,"  said 

Wainwright.     He   spoke  with  a  sudden  deep 

seriousness. 

Mr.  Binghamton's  humorous  little  face  lost 

its  smile.     "  By  Jove,"  he  said,  "  you  're  right. 

They  might,  indeed." 

"Could  they  not  go  into  politics?"  asked 

Wainwright. 

"  Politics  ?  "  repeated  his  companion.  He 
clapped  Wainwright  on  the  shoulder,  and 
laughed  again  with  mild  hilarity.  "  Oh,  yes, 
they  could,"  he  said,  "but  they  don't.  If  you 
knew  more  about  American  politics,  perhaps 
you  'd  understand  why  they  don't." 

Just  at  this  moment  Mr.  Binghamton  and 
his  guest  entered  the  library  of  the  club.  It 
was  a  chamber  appointed  with  faultless  taste  ; 
low  book-cases  were  ranged  along  its  crimson 
walls  ;  every  shelf  looked  well  filled.  Wain 
wright  stooped  and  examined  some  of  the 
books.  He  found  several  of  his  old  favorites 
.•eady  at  hand.  Taking  out  one  of  these,  he 
perceived  that  its  leaves  had  the  stiff  crackle 
of  a  book  which  has  remained  unread.  An 
other  volume,  and  still  another,  gave  the  same 
suggestion  of  disuse. 


A    GENTLEMAN-  OF  LEISURE.  IO? 

He  turned  toward  Mr.  Binghamton.  "  Are 
these  books  ever  read  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  often.  We  have  a  few  men  who  dip 
into  Thackeray  now  and  then  ;  I  suppose  on 
the  principle  of  seeing  one's  self  in  the  glass. 
They  come  here,  too,  of  a  morning  and  skim 
over  the  magazines  ;  you  see,  there's  a  pile  of 
magazines  yonder.  But  they  don't  do  much 
solid  reading,  — bless  me,  no  !  " 

"  You  mean  at  the  club  ? "  said  Wainwright, 
looking  up  thoughtfully  from  a  book  that  he 
was  examining. 

"  Oh,  not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Binghamton. 
"  I  mean  at  home,  abroad,  anywhere.  Your 
upper  classes  here  don't  read  ;  that 's  the  sim 
ple  truth.  They  haven't  time;  they  live  in 
too  great  a  hurry  and  bustle.  One  must  have 
leisure,  to  read  ;  the  American  knows  nothing 
of  leisure." 

"  The  young  men  have  leisure,  you  say,  — 
those  whom  I  just  now  heard  talking  together 
down-stairs.  Indeed,  I  can  hardly  believe 
that  it  would  not  require  leisure  to  assure 
/ourself  possessed  of  a  dog  which  can  whip 
my  other  in  the  whole  United  States." 

Mr.  Binghamton  laughed.  "  Oh,  those  are 
V'our  rich  young  men  ;  I  forgot  thoso.  " 


J08  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  Do  they  form  a  large  class  ?  " 
"  Rather.      It  is  growing  every  year." 
"  And  they  do  not  read,  either  ?  " 
"  Dear  me,    no  !       Far  less  even  than  the 
fathers  who  have  toiled  for  years  to  give  them 
drags  and  broughams  now." 

Wainwright  seemed  to  muse  for  a  moment, 
"  They  don't  read,  and  they  don't  take  interest 
in  the  government  of  their  country  ?  .  .  .  And 
these  are  the  men  who  would  call  themselves 
our  best  ?  ...  It  is  all  very  strange  to  me." 

Mr.  Binghamton  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  gave  his  queer  moustache  a  short  tug.  "  I 
can't  help  wondering  what  you  expected  to 
find,"  said  the  Englishman,  with  a  keen  look 
from  his  small  hazel  eyes. 

Wainwright  broke  into  a  broad  smile.  "  I 
expected  to  find  America  full  of  Americans," 
he  said.  A  moment  previously  he  had  re 
placed  on  its  shelf  the  book  which  he  had  been 
holding.  Directly  above  him,  on  the  polished 
top  of  the  low  book-case,  rested  a  tome  of 
really  cumbrous  bulk.  He  drew  it  toward  him 
with  both  hands,  intending  to  read  its  title. 
But  the  cover,  loosely  detached,  came  off  in 
his  grasp,  and  several  of  the  leaves  fell  out 
.n  dire  disarray. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  IOQ 

"Good  gracious!"  exclaimed  Wamwright, 
"what  mischief  have  I  been  committing?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  bother  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Bing- 
hamton.  "  That  's  the  British  Peerage.  I 
happen  to  know  that  the  club  has  ordered  a 
new  one." 

A  curious  look  had  crossed  Wainwright's 
face.  He  had  set  his  eyes  quite  fixedly  upon 
Mr.  Binghamton.  "  I  thought  you  told  me 
that  they  did  n't  read,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  bless  my  soul  !  they  read  the  Peerage. 
Why,  we  wear  out  a  new  one  every  year  or 
so,  at  the  Metropolitan." 

"Is  it  possible?  "  said  Wainwright,  dryly. 


VII. 

T  about  half  past  ten,  that  same  even 
ing,  Mr.  Binghamton  and  Wainwright 
were  driven  in  a  cab  to  the  Grosve- 
nors'  ball.  It  was  unfortunate  that  darkness 
prevented  the  latter  from  taking  note  of  the 
locality  through  which  their  vehicle  presently 
passed,  after  having  clattered  through  Broad 
way  for  some  distance,  and  then  threaded  a 
length  of  most  uninteresting  side-street.  But 
Binghamton,  apt  to  be  an  informant  no  less  gar 
rulous  than  accurate,  presently  made  amends 
for  the  disadvantages  of  the  hour. 

"We  are  nearing  the  quarter  in  which  these 
Grosvenors  live,"  he  said,  peering  for  a  mo 
ment  through  the  window  of  the  cab.  "  No 
tice  how  broad  the  street  has  grown.  This  is 
Second  Avenue.  The  especial  portion  of  it 
through  which  we  are  now  passing  is  one  of 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  1 1 1 

the  few  fragments  of  old  New  York  that  have 
still  been  left  uninvaded  by  a  merciless  spirit 
of  change.  See,  .  .  .  here  are  two  parks,  — 
one  on  either  side  of  us.  They  are  called,  re 
spectively,  Rutherfurd  and  Stuyvesant  parks. 
They  are  full  of  charming  old  trees,  and  neigh 
boring  trees  have  actually  been  permitted  to 
grow  from  the  centre  of  the  outer  sidewalks, 
as  if  the  pavements  had  paid  a  graceful  defer 
ence  to  their  antiquity.  This  avenue  has 
something  pathetic  about  it.  Years  ago  your 
early  residents  conceived  the  idea  of  making 
it  the  great  opulent  thoroughfare  that  Fifth 
Avenue  is  now.  Second  Avenue  ought,  in 
deed,  to  have  been  Fifth  Avenue.  It  began 
with  the  most  brilliant  expectations.  It  lined 
itself  with  stately  mansions  of  liberal  front  ; 
we  are  passing  some  of  them  at  present.  I 
can't  tell  you  how  many  Stuyvesants,  Liv 
ingstons  and  Van  Rensselaers  have  lived  and 
died  here.  A  few  of  them  are  still  living  here. 
But  Second  Avenue  is  an  embodied  disap 
pointment  ;  it  is  a  perished  hope.  Suddenly 
the  patrician  tide  set  in  another  direction.  A 
few  squares  above  us  the  Teutons  and  Hiber 
nians  throng  their  slatternly  tenements.  Not 


112  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

far  below  us  the  noble  old  dwellings  have  been 
turned  into  third-rate  boarding-houses,  where 
German  ladies  with  big  brummagem  ear-rings 
live  in  splendid  usurpation,  the  wives  of  pros 
perous  clothiers,  tobacconists,  or  beer-sellers 
on  that  horrid  adjacent  Bowery.  But  for  some 
little  distance  Second  Avenue  still  remains 
(though  in  a  melancholy  way)  aristocratic. 
.  .  .  Observe  that  old  church  which  we  are 
just  now  passing.  You  can  see  it  only  indis 
tinctly.  It  is  called  St.  Mark's.  It  is  really  a 
delightful  relic.  It  is  hideously  ugly,  but  it 
has  a  little  space  of  ground  about  it  which  is 
honey- combed  with  old  family-vaults.  I  don't 
know  how  many  deceased  grandees  sleep  there. 
I  should  n't  wonder,  my  dear  Wainwright,  if 
you  have  some  uncles  and  aunts  hidden  away 
in  those  vaults." 

"  It  is  certainly  strange  to  be  told  this  by 
an  Englishman,"  said  Wainwright,  quietly, 
from  the  darkness.  His  companion  could  no.t 
see  how  grave  his  face  looked  as  he  thus 
spoke. 

"  We  are  getting  very  near  the  Grosve- 
nors',"  pursued  Mr.  Binghamton,  while  the  cab 
rolled  along.  "  Do  you  know,  I  always  have 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  113 

an  odd  feeling  when  I  come  down  here  to  this 
house  ?  I  've  lived  long  enough  in  New  York 
to  have  got  a  certain  fondness  for  it  ;  I  de 
tested  it  at  first,  but  that  has  quite  worn  off. 
The  Grosvenors  have  entertained  before. 
They  have  lived  in  their  big,  clingy  mansion 
for  an  age.  There  is  an  ancient  yellow  grand 
mother  who  does  the  entertaining.  She  has 
two  orphaned  grandchildren,  one  of  whom  has 
been  in  society  for  two  years  or  so,  and  one  of 
whom  is  '  brought  out '  in  great  state  to-night. 
It  seems  so  strange  to  meet  all  the  nabobs 
down  here.  .  .  .  See  the  long  line  of  car 
riages  ;  we  shall  have  to  take  our  turn.  A 
ball  up  town  is  different ;  there  it  is  all  brown- 
stone  smartness  ;  it  is  the  natural  home  of 
wealth  and  fashion.  But  this  eastern  side  of 
the  city  is  full  of  want,  even  squalor.  On  the 
pavement  where  Mrs.  Bodenstein  will  touch 
her  dainty  foot  as  she  trips  from  carriage  to 
doorway,  many  a  weary  work-girl  has  lately 
dragged  her  steps  homeward.  To-night  the 
most  imperious  creeds  of  caste  and  pride  will  be 
aired  in  those  perfumed  rooms,  while  perhaps 
a  stone's-throw  away,  in  some  plebeian  side- 
street,  the  O'Flanagans  are  deep  in  the  mys- 
8 


114  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

teries  of  a  '  wake.'  I  don't  think  that  large, 
grimy  idea  called  '  the  people  '  ever  comes  in 
closer  contact  with  its  social  opposite,  the  aris 
tocracy,  than  when  one  goes  to  a  ball  here  in 
this  delightful  old  avenue." 

"  Ah,"  exclaimed  Wainwright,  "  shall  I  ever 
grow  accustomed  to  words  like  'aristocracy' 
or  '  the  people,'  when  spoken  under  transat 
lantic  skies  !  " 

Mr.  Binghamton  gave  one  of  his  jocund 
laughs  just  as  their  carriage  stopped,  ready  to 
take  its  turn  in  the  dark  file  of  others.  "  My 
dear  Wainwright,"  he  said,  "  if  a  man  wants  to 
see  social  distinctions  expressed  in  their  most 
aggravated  form,  let  him  come  to  America  to 
find  them." 

"  I  can  hardly  credit  you,"  was  the  low  re 
ply. 

Again  Mr.  Binghamton  laughed.  "  You 
have  n't  met  the  American  element  in  English 
life,"  he  said.  "  You  are  even  more  British 
than  I  at  first  suspected  of  you.  I  begin  to 
see  that  you  are  moderate  in  everything.  You 
have  never  moved  in  those  gayer  ranks  of 
English  society  where  Americans  find  such 
easy  ingress.  Had  you  done  so  you  must 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE,  1 1  5 

aave  seen,  long  before  coming  to  these  shores, 
how  Americans  strive  and  push  while  in  Lon 
don  to  gain  the  heed  of  titled  leaders,  how 
often  they  succeed,  and  how  both  their  efforts 
and  their  successes  prove  the  absurdly  unre- 
publican  spirit  which  tradition  has  accredited 
them  with." 

"  I  have  known  only  English  people  in  Eng 
land,"  said  Wainwright. 

"  As  I  felt  certain,"  was  the  quick  answer. 
"  Now  I  took  a  brief  trip  to  England  about  a 
year  ago.  I  fell  in  with  a  lot  of  Americans 
there,  —  many  of  them  New  Yorkers,  whom  I 
had  known  here.  I  found  that  they  were 
mostly  having  a  glorious  time.  They  had  got 
in  with  Lord  This  and  Lady  That.  In  their 
own  country  they  were  of  no  social  importance 
whatever ;  I  don't  specially  know  why,  but 
they  were  not.  Having  money,  expensive 
habits,  and  a  taste  for  fashion,  they  were  taken 
up  by  a  lot  of  London  celebrities.  One  day  I 
expressed  surprise  to  a  fellow-countryman  that 
this  condition  of  affairs  should  exist.  It  was 
no  doubt  extremely  bad  taste  in  me,  but  I 
nevertheless  committed  myself  so  far.  My 
friend  was  an  enormous  potentate ;  I  don't 


1 1 6  A    GENTJLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

mind  telling  you  who  he  was,  —  he  was  Lord 
Steeplechaser  ;  I  don't  doubt  you  know  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  Wainwright,  "  I  know  him.  I 
don't  like  his  form  or  his  set,  but  I  have  met 
him  ;  and  I  admit,  as  you  say,  that  he  is  a  po 
tentate." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mr.  Binghamton,  "  this 
is  what  he  answered  me  :  '  My  dear  Bingham 
ton,'  he  said,  'you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that 
you  have  social  distinctions  over  there  ? '  I 
endeavored  to  persuade  him  that  we  had  very 
extreme  ones  ;  but  he  would  not  believe  me. 
And  I  suppose  you,  likewise,  will  not  believe 
till  you  see." 

"  Oh,  I  have  seen,"  said  Wainwright. 

"  But  not  enough.  You  will  see  more  here 
after  ;  it  is  in  the  air,  as  one  might  say  ;  you 
are  fated  to  breathe  it  in.  ...  However,  my 
dear  fellow,  there  is  one  point  regarding  which 
I  feel  a  deal  of  confidence." 

"  You  mean?"  .  .  .  said  Wainwright,  in 
soft  interrogation. 

"  Simply  this,"  responded  Mr.  Binghamton, 
leaning  sideways,  so  that  some  effect  of  out 
ward  lamplight  wrought  a  revealing  gleam  upon 
his  quaint,  small  face  :  "  that  nothing  on  earth 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  1 1  / 

is  easier  than  for  any  sort  of  American,  pro 
vided  he  have  money  and  a  decent  presenta- 
bility,  to  get  himself  recognized  in  England. 
Over  there  they  make  the  same  mistake  that 
you  make,  —  pardon  me,  that  you  made  yes 
terday,  and  that  you  will  be  astonished  at 
having  made  to-morrow.  They  assume  that 
everybody  over  here  is  of  the  same  pattern. 
They  can't  conceive  of  any  differences.  Miss 
Smith,  of  Topeka,  can  go  to  London  and  be 
received,  if  she  possess  wit,  wealth,  and  good 
looks.  Let  her  come  to  New  York,  and  she 
might  languish  for  years  before  she  got  a  card 
to  the  Bodensteins' — or  the  Grosvenors',  where 
we  are  now  going.  This  brings  me  back  to 
our  original  subject  ;  I  'm  such  a  rambler  ;  I  'm 
always  getting  away  from  original  subjects. 
Well,  I  've  only  to  repeat  myself :  if  you  want 
to  see  social  distinctions  more  marked  than 
any  imposed  by  the  Duke  of  Belgravia  or  the 
Marquis  of  Mayfair,  come  to  this  leading  city 
in  the  land  of  liberty,  equality,  and  fraternity, 
that  you  may  get  a  good  look  at  them."  Here 
the  door  of  the  cab  was  suddenly  opened. 
"  Bless  me,  it 's  our  turn  to  get  out !  "  said  Mr. 
Binghamton.  "  I  thought  we  had  a  good  ten 


Il8  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

minutes  yet,  with  this  crush."     And  they  both 
got  out. 

The  Grosvenors'  house  was  one  of  the  early 
products  of  New  York  architecture,  and  its 
present  aged  proprietress  had  always  shown 
the  most  conservative  instincts  in  its  domestic 
management.  She  was  a  little  wrinkled  old 
lady,  wh<,  dressed  in  scant  robes  of  dark  silk 
and  a  ruffled  cap,  after  the  fashion  of  fifty 
years  ago,  with  large  gold  spectacles  crowning 
her  high,  shriveled  nose,  and  an  antique  watch- 
chain  descending  from  a  brooch  at  the  throat. 
She  was  in  perfect  correspondence  with  the 
arched,  colonial-looking  doorway,  flanked  by 
narrow  side-lights,  that  led  you  into  her  dull 
yet  spacious  abode,  with  its  heavy  mahogany 
doors  and  its  slim-banistered  staircase  ;  with 
the  straight  prevailing  stiffness  of  its  furniture 
and  the  meagre-rimmed  plainness  of  its  mir 
rors,  rising  here  and  there  as  if  in  puritan  pro 
test  against  the  vanity  to  which  they  might 
minister  ;  with  the  dark,  lofty  clock,  whose 
black  hands  had  crept  round  its  brass  face  for 
lorty  years,  while  its  solemn,  coffin-shaped  case 
seemed  huge  enough  to  accommodate  Father 
Time  himself,  scythe  and  all ;  and  with  the 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  119 

grim  family  portraits,  mostly  in  the  execrable 
method  of  primitive  American  art.  She  was 
a  hater  of  all  new  ideas,  and  gossip  asserted 
that  her  two  grandchildren  had  pertinaciously 
struggled  before  they  had  broken  loose  from 
her  rigorous  tutelage.  But  two  years  ago  the 
eldest  of  these  young  girls  had  conquered 
restriction  and  appeared  triumphantly  in  soci 
ety.  The  family  possessed  great  wealth,  and 
frequent  satire  was  leveled  by  their  guests  at 
the  continued  primness  of  their  residence. 
This  was  naturally  a  high  source  of  amuse 
ment  to  those  who  left  Queen  Anne  mantels 
smart  with  blue  china,  or  chambers  modishly 
decorative  with  Persian  rugs  and  Japanese 
screens.  To-night  the  Grosvenor  mansion,  as 
Wainwright  and  his  new  friend  presently  found, 
saw  its  dismal  rigidity  illumined  by  a  throng 
of  the  most  brilliant-clad  merrymakers.  '  The 
last  inspirations  of  Parisian  millinery  inundated 
these  austere  rooms  in  a  lavish,  rustling  over 
Jlow.  Mrs.  Grosvenor  stood  at  the  door-way  of 
the  front  drawing-room,  furrowed,  decrepit,  and 
like  a  vivified  figure  from  some  portrait  on  her 
own  walls.  Her  two  grandchildren  were  close 
beside  her,  both  of  them  burdened  with  a  fra 


120  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

grant  load  of  bouquets,  one  being  now  the 
trained  society  belle,  and  one  having  the  timid 
air  of  the  new-fledged  debutante.  The  old  lady 
was  extremely  deaf,  and  it  was  necessary  for 
the  eldest  Miss  Grosvenor  to  utter  very  loudly 
indeed  the  names  of  those  guests  with  whom 
her  grandmother  was  not  personally  acquainted. 
She  was  personally  acquainted  with  very  fe\v 
of  the  people  who  were  crossing  her  threshold  ; 
she  may  have  been  intimate  with  some  of  their 
kindred  in  remote  times,  but  she  had  not  gone 
into  the  social  world  for  at  least  twenty  years, 
stoutly  declaring  her  entire  disapproval  of  its 
present  reckless  expenditures  and  European 
innovations,  and  coldly  consenting  that  a  cer 
tain  family  relation,  a  genial  young  matron 
of  merry  disposition  and  large  acquaintance, 
should  act  as  chaperone  to  her  recalcitrant 
grandchild.  As  the  new-comers  streamed  in, 
it  was  worth  study  to  see  the  quick  black  eye  of 
Miss  Grosvenor  first  recognize,  then  beam  wel 
come,  and  then  turn  toward  her  antiquated  rel 
ative.  "  Mr.  Binghamton,  grandmamma,"  she 
said,  in  a  loud,  assertive  voice,  as  Wainwright 
and  his  companion  appeared.  Mrs.  Gros 
venor  extended  a  hand  to  the  Englishman,  who 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  1 2  I 

murmured  Wainwright's  name  a  moment  later. 
Miss  Grosvenor  bowed  behind  her  bouquets  ; 
the  tyro  sister  bowed  behind  her  bouquets  ; 
then  Miss  Grosvenor  again  looked  toward  her 
grandmother,  but  that  lady  was  rather  effu 
sively  shaking  hands  with  a  gentleman  whose 
pink-shining  baldness  and  stooping  figure 
placed  him,  in  all  appearance,  well  among  the 
seventies.  Wainwright  soon  felt  his  compan 
ion  gently  push  him  forward,  and  they  were 
immediately  amid  the  close,  babbling  multitude 
beyond.  "  There  's  not  the  slightest  necessity 
of  your  knowing  the  old  woman,"  sounded  a 
discreet  whisper  at  Wainwright's  ear.  "  She 
would  n't  remember  your  name  three  minutes, 
even  if  she  heard  it,  and  she  never  hears  any 
body's  name ;  all  lhat  is  a  clever  little  propiti 
atory  ruse  on  the  part  of  her  granddaughter. 
Our  hostess  is  the  most  tiresome  old  person ; 
she  ought  to  be  framed  in  mahogany  and  put  up 
in  the  attic,  with  her  face  turned  to  the  wall.  .  .  . 
If  there  's  anybody  here  whom  you  would  like 
to  know,  my  dear  Wainwright,  command  me. 
.  .  .  Ah,  there  is  Mrs.  Spencer  Vanderhoff ; 
L  told  you  she  would  have  on  the  yellow  and 
-ed  gown." 


122  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  I  think  it  is  quite  becoming,"  said  Wain 
ivright.  "  It  gives  her  an  Oriental  magnifi 
cence." 

"  Oh,  there  's  nothing  barbaric  about  her," 
laughed  Mr.  Binghamton.  "  She  's  tremen 
dously  civilized." 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  know  her,"  said 
Wainwright.  "  You  say  it  is  fate  that  I  shall, 
and  one  had  best  accept  fate  philosophically." 

When  he  was  presented,  a  few  moments 
later,  to  Mrs.  Vanderhoff,  this  lady  had  just 
sunk  with  portly  dignity  into  a  chair ;  two 
gentlemen  were  standing  near  her  at  the  time 
of  Wain wright's  introduction,  but  she  broke 
off  conversation  with  them  on  the  instant,  and 
gave  her  unshared  attention  to  the  new  ac 
quaintance.  Her  face  was  faded,  and  yet  sin 
gularly  vivacious  ;  its  lines  partook  of  the 
fleshly  fullness  that  marked  her  figure,  but  it 
still  preserved  a.,  delicacy  that  was  altered 
though  not  spoiled  by  this  matronly  change; 
its  expression  was  richly  amiable,  as  you  felt 
that  it  must  always  have  been  ;  it  was  a  face 
vhat  suggested  sweet  decadence,  like  the  fall 
ing  apart  and  curl  at  the  edge  in  the  leaves  of 
a  rose  too  fully  blown. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  123 

"  I  am  so  delighted  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Wain- 
wright,"  she  said.  "  I  have  known  a  number 
of  your  near  relations  :  your  uncle,  Colonel 
Wainwright,  who  brought  back  such  a  splen 
did  record  from  Mexico  ;  .  .  .  your  poor,  clear 
mother,  who  left  us  and  went  to  England  while 
still  so  blooming  and  lovely  a  widow ;  .  .  . 
your  father,  whose  princely  manners  won  all 
hearts,  and  whose  sudden  death  was  such  a 
blow  to  hundreds  of  his  friends  ;  .  .  .  your 
aunt  Gertrude,  Mrs.  Rivington  De  Peyster, 
who  was  my  beloved  friend  from  the  days 
when  we  were  at  school  together  until  her 
death  in  that  beautiful  home  of  hers  on  the 
Hudson.  Ah,  yes,  I  knew  them  all !  You  are 
so  like  your  mother.  ...  I  suppose  one  should 
not  deal  in  these  sad  memories  at  so  gay  a 
time  as  this.  .  .  .  But  I  cannot  help  it ;  your 
face  recalls  my  dear  friends  to  me."  .  .  . 

These  words  were  spoken  with  mellifluous 
gentleness  and  an  air  of  fascinating  sympathy 
One  of  the  gentlemen  with  whom  Mrs.  Van- 
derhoff  had  been  speaking  now  leaned  forward 
and  murmured  a  few  words  that  compelled 
ier  temporary  heed.  Just  then  Mr.  Bingham- 
lun,  who  had  effected  the  recent  introduction 


[24  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

and  was  stationed  at  Wainwright's  elbow,  con 
trived  to  utter  some  quick  sentences  in  his  ear, 
covered  by  a  whisper  of  the  most  discreet 
safety. 

"  She 's  gushing.  She  always  does,  more 
or  less.  But  it  is  n't  bad  fun,  sometimes.  1 
don't  say  she  's  a  humbug,  mind,  if  others  do. 
I  think  there  is  a  great  deal  that  is  real  about 
her.  .  .  .  Au  revoir, —  will  try  and  rejoin  you 
soon." 

Mr.  Binghamton  slipped  away.  By  this  time 
Mrs.  Vanderhoff  had  once  more  concerned  her 
self  exclusively  with  Wainwright,  who  now  ad 
dressed  her  in  his  usual  suave  manner.  "  Your 
reminiscences  are  very  far  from  affecting  me 
sadly,"  he  said.  "It  is  pleasant  to  be  told 
that  I  have  pitched  my  tent  where  I  am  not  of 
an  unknown  tribe." 

"  I  trust  the  stakes  are  driven  in  deeply,  — 
are  not  to  be  pulled  up  for  a  good  long  while," 
said  Mrs.  Vanderhoff,  with  extreme  cordiality. 

"  I  had  not  thought  to  stay  here  long,"  re 
turned  Wainwrighl.  Then  he  hesitated  a  mo 
ment,  before  adding,  "  I  had  not  thought  that 
I  should  find  any  reason  for  staying." 

"  And  you  have  found   a   reason  ?  "     Here 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  12$ 

Mrs,  Vanderhoff  burst  into  a  soft,  full  laugh. 
"  Please  tell  me  what  it  is, —  whether  its  eyes 
are  brown  or  blue,  whether  it  is  short  or 
tall." 

"  Ah,"  said  Wainwright,  "  I  have  not  been 
here  long  enough  to  fall  in  love.  I  mean  the 
great  surprise  of  it  all,"  he  went  on,  looking 
about  him,  and  suddenly  lifting  both  hands. 
"  It  is  so  different  from  what  I  expected. 
True,  I  should  not  be  able  to  formulate  what 
my  expectations  were." 

Mrs.  Vanderhoff  shook  one  finger  at  the 
speaker.  Her  festal  apparel,  her  mingled  re 
pose  and  sprightliness,  the  large,  imperial 
grace  of  her  posture,  and,  more  than  all,  some 
thing  in  her  countenance  that  was  fine  and 
suggestive,  combined  to  give  her  the  air  of  an 
elderly  foreign  peeress.  Wainwright,  as  he 
watched  her,  could  scarcely  believe  that  this 
grand  creature  borrowed  other  people's  car 
riages  and  opera-boxes. 

"  I  fear  that  you  are  ashamed  to  tell  what 
bad  things  you  expected  of  us  ! "  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  delightful  smile.  "  But  every  day  that 
yua  remain  here  shall  disappoint  you  more 
and  more  agreeably.  Oh,  yes,  I  'm  convinced 


126  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

of  it.  I  have  been  abroad,  Mr.  Wainwiight;  1 
have  sojourned  in  nearly  all  the  chief  countries 
of  Europe.  But  it  has  only  made  me  a  devout 
optimist  regarding  my  own  country.  We  have 
a  great  deal  to  learn,  but  we  know  many  things 
that  we  might  teach  our  wisest  contemporaries. 
Ah,  I  have  an  enthusiasm  for  America,  and 
especially  for  American  women.  You  have  no 
idea  what  glorious,  lovely  beings  they  are.  I 
know  wives,  mothers,  daughters,  here,  who  are 
shining  models  of  their  sex.  They  are  good 
and  true  in  such  a  spontaneous,  untrammeled 
way.  They  are  so  much  less  conscious  of 
their  virtue  than  their  sisters  across  the  sea. 
Often  the  very  acts  by  which  they  seem  to 
shock  European  eyes  are  the  result  of  a  de 
licious  innocence.  They  are  industriously 
misunderstood  by  those  who  have  seen  wom 
anhood  grow  up  in  hot-houses,  and  not  spring 
with  sweet  vigor  from  our  new,  rich  soil." 

This  may  have  affected  Wainvvright  as  the 
gush  which  Mr.  Binghamton  had  cynically 
prophesied  ;  but  in  any  case  it  interested  him, 
after  the  previous  exposition  which  he  had 
gained  from  a  similar  source  of  the  lady's 
rather  salient  peculiarities.  He  had  already  be- 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  \2J 

come  skeptical  of  the  Englishman's  correct 
judgment.  It  seemed  to  him  that  these  can 
did  and  fluent  expressions  were  not  consistent 
with  the  marauding  deliberation  for  which  his 
late  companion  had  so  amply  prepared  him. 
He  began  to  suspect  Mr.  Binghamton  of  being 
a  merciless  scandal-monger;  he  found  himself 
doubting  the  perpetuity  of  the  red-and-yellow 
gown,  and  discrediting  the  feeble  pinkness  of 
the  Saturday-evening  punches. 

"  It  is  very  nice  to  hear  any  one  stand  up  so 
valiantly  for  native  institutions,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  heard  no  such  charitable  opinions  uttered 
since  my  arrival." 

"That  is  because  you  have  seen  no  one  thus 
far  who  occupies  my  point  of  view  as  regards 
American  society."  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  spoke 
these  words  while  crossing  her  gloved  hands 
in  her  lap  and  looking  up  at  Waimvright  with 
a  charming  seriousness.  "•  I  go  everywhere  ; 
I  am  in  all  sets  ;  I  observe  the  whole  large 
social  plan,  and  I  assure  you  it  is  wonderfully 
interesting." 

"  Mr.  Binghamton  appears  to  find  it  wonder 
fully  cold  and  formal/'  said  Waimvright. 

"  Mr.  Binghamton  sees  it  with  English 
eyes." 


128  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  But  he  looks  upon  it  from  the  same  com 
prehensive    point    of   view    as    yourself,"   said 
Wainwright,  with   sly  sarcasm.     "  I  mean  that 
he    describes    a   very    extensive   orbit.     It    is 
parabolic,  as  the  astronomers  say." 

"  Ah,  do  not  speak  of  Mr.  Binghamton  as 
if  he  were  a  heavenly  body,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Vanderhoff.  "  Indeed,  he  is  a  most  earthly 
one.  He  cannot  see  all  our  sunshine,  nor 
breathe  in  all  our  ozone.  He  thinks  Amer 
ican  girls  shamefully  immoral ;  he  once  told 
me  so.  Do  you  know  what  he  bases  his 
theory  upon  ?  The  harmless  flirtations,  hand 
kerchief-waving,  or  hand-kissing,  of  pert,  hoy- 
denish  little  minxes  whom  one  meets  on  the 
avenue.  That  is  so  like  an  Englishman  !  Why, 
one  might  as  well  discover  something  improper 
in  the  frisk  of  a  kitten.  Then,  too,  I  don't 
doubt  that  the  patrician  element  here  seems  to 
him  an  unwholesome  sign." 

"It  may  well  seem  rather  absurd,"  said 
Wainwright. 

"  It  is  neither,"  declared  Mrs.  Vanderhoff. 
''  It  is  a  splendid  protest  against  the  mere  vul 
garity  of  republicanism.  How  monotonous 
society  would  be  if  it  were  all  of  a  piece,  with 
no  '  good,'  '  better,'  and  '  best '  !  " 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  1 29 

"You   are   truly   an    optimist,"   said   Wain- 
wright     "  You  approve  of  everything." 

"  I  am  contented  with  everything  except 
discontent,"  smiled  Mrs.  Vanderhoff,  arranging 
a  bit  of  trimming  on  her  gorgeous  gown.  "  I 
believe  in  my  surroundings,  and  I  enjoy 
them.  .  .  .  Upon  my  word,"  she  added,  with 
a  still  brighter  smile,  full  of  something  that  on 
childish  lips  might  have  been  called  sweet 
roguery,  "  I  do  not  believe  there  is  a  woman  in 
all  Christendom  wi.o  enjoys  herself  more  thor 
oughly  than  I  do  !  " 

"Ah,"  said  Wainwright,  "  that  is  because 
you  have  the  enviable  faculty  of  being  easily 
amused."  He  was  interested,  as  we  know; 
he  regarded  Mrs.  Vanderhoff,  at  this  moment, 
in  a  mood  of  studious  coolness.  Whenever 
she  paused  he  felt  toward  her  as  though  she 
were  an  orchestrion  that  required  a  stimulat 
ing  rearrangement  of  its  mechanism.  He 
had  already  told  himself  that  she  was  in 
deed,  in  her  special  way,  a  type-;  he  was  by 
no  means  sure  if  she  were  not  the  most  purely 
American  type  that  he  had  yet  encountered. 
He  could  not  resist  a  curiosity  to  witness,  in 
some  manner,  the  verification  of  certain  hard 


i  30  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

statements  which  now  rang  in  his  memory 
with  a  cruel  echo  of  injustice. 

"  Easily  amused  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Vanderhoff, 
with  a  sort  of  exclamatory  gentleness.  "  I  can 
find  amusement  nearly  everywhere.  I  have  an 
abhorrence  of  loneliness.  I  like  so  very  much 
to  meet  new  people  ;  merely  to  watch  new 
people  is  a  pleasure.  I  can't  ride  in  a  street 
car  or  an  omnibus  without  finding  some 
body  whom  it  pleases  me  simply  to  watch 
and  speculate  upon.  I  suppose  that  is  the 
reason  why  I  rush  about  so  much.  I  am 
never  bored.  There  are  many  people  here  to 
night,  men  and  women,  who  are  constantly 
bored.  They  mostly  move  in  one  set,  and 
grow  weary  of  the  same  faces,  the  same  man 
ners,  the  same  rounds  of  diversion.  But  I 
know  so  many  sets  ;  I  possess  a  kind  of  talis 
man  against  enmii." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  to  be  explained,"  said  Wain- 
wright,  with  complimentary  nicety,  "by  your 
'liability  to  bore  other  people." 

Mrs.  VanderhorFs  smile  deepened,  and  she 
seemed  about  to  reply,  when  suddenly  her 
4and  was  extended  toward  a  gentleman  who 
lvas  passing  her,  and  whose  shoulder  she  sue- 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  131 

reeded  in  lightly  touching.  The  gentleman 
turned  and  made  an  elaborate  bow.  As  he 
paused,  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  spoke  a  few  rapid 
words  to  him. 

11  It  was  so  good  of  you  to  send  me  those 
tickets  for  the  concert,"  she  said,  with  glowing 
affability.  "I  wouldn't  have  asked  you  for 
them  if  I  had  not  known  that  you  and  Madame 
Francolini  were  so  desperately  intimate.  Pray 
tell  her  for  me  that  she  has  a  charming  voice, 
and  that  she  will  never  be  fully  appreciated  till 
she  sings  in  grand  opera."  Here  Mrs.  Van 
derhoff  patted  the  gentleman's  sleeve  with  the 
tip  of  her  fan.  "  Don't  let  me  detain  you  a 
moment  longer,"  she  said.  "  I  see  that  Mrs. 
Effingham  is  beckoning  for  you.  But  thanks, 
—  a  thousand  thanks." 

"  The  debt  is  mine,"  returned  the  gentle 
man,  nodding  and  smiling  with  much  genial 
ity  as  he  moved  onward.  Mrs.  Vanderhoff 
now  looked  toward  Wainwright  once  more. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  often  bore  other  people," 
she  said.  "But  I  try  to  reflect  my  own  good- 
humor  upon  everybody.  If  I  fail  it  is  n't  my 
<ault.  Not  to  fail,  you  know,  is  the  secret  of 
not  moping  through  life,  devoid  of  incentive 


132  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

devoid  of  solace.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
secure  both.  Don't  you  think  that  is  a  dis 
creet  code  of  philosophy  ?  Come,  now,  confess 
that  you  do." 

Before  Wainwright  could  reply  to  this  direct 
appeal,  delivered  with  a  familiarity  that  was 
irresistibly  winsome,  another  gentleman  had 
stooped  to  greet  Mrs.  Vanderhoff. 

"  I  almost  feared  that  you  would  not  have 
anything  more  to  do  with  me,"  she  said,  re 
taining  the  new-comer's  hand  a  little  longer 
than  usage  directs,  and  leaning  graciously  for 
ward. 

"Why  not?"  replied  the  person  thus  ad 
dressed. 

"Beca  se  I  must  have  taxed  you  so  by  ask 
ing  you  to  do  that  little  favor,"  returned  Mrs. 
Vanderhoff,  deepening  her  handsome  smile. 
"  But  you  can't  think  how  a  ball  of  that  large, 
public  sort  charmed  my  friend  from  the  West. 
She  had  never  seen  anything  like  it  before  ;  it 
was  a  precious  novelty  to  her;  and  I  so  enjoyed 
her  enjoyment  !  Of  course  I  could  have 
oought  tickets  for  us  both,  but  then"  .  .  . 

"  Instead  of  that,"  was  the  gentleman's  in 
terruption,  for  which  he  seemed  to  have  been 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  133 

given  just  the  opportune  moment,  "you  per 
mitted  me  the  pleasure  of  inviting  you  both." 

Here  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  made  some  response 
of  which  Wainwright  could  catch  but  frag 
mentary  sentences.  His  attention,  moreover, 
was  now  somewhat  distracted  by  seeing  Miss 
Ruth  Cheever  pass  at  rather  a  distance,  upon 
the  arm  of  a  tall  gray  escort.  He  saw  his 
chance  of  departure,  and  seized  it.  Mrs.  Van 
derhoff  was  sufficiently  absorbed,  in  however 
transient  a  way,  not  to  observe  the  retreat 
which  he  now  accomplished,  with  a  dexterity 
born  of  deft  previous  practice. 

Wainwright  had  satisfied  himself  on  one 
point.  Scandal  had  not  maligned  Mrs.  Van 
derhoff.  Then,  too,  he  had  seen  Miss  Cheever, 
and  wanted,  if  possible,  to  secure  a  talk  with 
her. 


VIII. 

HE  drawing-rooms  had  now  become 
densely  crowded.  It  was  a  polite 
crush.  Wainwright  found  massive 
trains  of  silk  or  velvet  obstructing  his  prog 
ress,  like  headlands  to  be  rounded  only  with 
peril.  But  he  had  long  ago  acquired  skill  and 
alacrity  in  this  species  of  locomotion.  He 
perceived  that  Ruth  Cheever  had  paused  near 
one  of  the  mottled  marble  pilasters  of  a  man 
tel  not  far  off  ;  she  was  smiling  somewhat  ab 
sently  as  the  gray  gentleman  talked  to  her. 
It  struck  Wainwright  that  she  looked  a  trifle 
bored,  though  this  pathetic  condition  was  not 
without  becoming  results.  Her  forehead  wore 
the  piquant  suspicion  of  a  frown  ;  she  was  bit 
ing  her  nether  lip  in  a  fitfully  stealthy  way 
notwithstanding  her  smile,  and  now  and  then 
she  would  give  a  nervous,  brushing  touch  with 


A    GENTLEMAN"  OF  LEISURE.  135 

her  gloved  finger-tips  to  the  bunch  of  violets 
worn  in  her  belt.  Wainwright  saw  her  face 
lighten  the  moment  she  recognized  him.  The 
gray  gentleman,  who  had  a  very  aristocratic 
way  of  treating  his  eyeglasses,  and  something 
actually  ducal  about  the  lines  of  his  back  and 
shoulders,  stared  upon  Wainwright  for  a  mo 
ment,  observed  the  refreshed  look  of  Miss 
Cheever,  and  let  himself  be  borne  along  on 
the  sluggish  current  of  the  crowd.  He  paused, 
however,  before  he  had  gone  many  yards,  and 
looked  back  at  the  two  young  people  whom  he 
had  left.  Ruth  Cheever' s  strong  yet  delicate 
face  appeared  very  animated.  The  tall,  gray 
gentleman  sighed.  No  one  but  himself  could 
possibly  have  heard  the  sigh,  for  a  band  was 
playing  somewhere,  and  a  great  buzz  of  talk 
mixed  with  its  music.  He  would  not  have 
cared  to  'let  the  sigh  be  heard  ;  he  might  have 
felt  vastly  loath  to  let  its  cause  transpire.  He 
was  forty-nine,  and  a  widower  with  six  chil 
dren.  But  he  was  in  love  with  Ruth  Cheever, 
and  he  wanted  very  much  to  marry  her.  This 
would  make  her  no  less  a  personage  than  Mrs. 
Beekman  Amsterdam,  sister-in-law  of  the 
great  Mrs.  Bodcnstein  ;  and  moreover,  since 


136  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

he  was  extremely  wealthy,  it  would  make  her 
the  mistress  of  many  luxuries  and  splendors. 
But  Mr.  Amsterdam  had  already  offered  him 
self  three  times. to  Ruth  Cheever,  and  three 
times  that  young  lady  had  refused  him.  He 
was  considerably  discouraged,  though  not  yet 
quite  disheartened.  The  probability  of  his 
asking  her  a  fourth  time  to  be  his  wife  was  at 
present  near  if  not  precisely  imminent. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  find  you  here,"  said 
Wainwright,  as  he  shook  hands  with  Ruth 
Cheever.  "  I  had  somehow  got  to  fancy  that  so 
large  a  ball  would  not  attract  you  from  home." 

"  It  did  not  offer  striking  inducements,"  she 
replied,  with  a  weary  ring  in  her  voice  that  had 
the  charm  of  unconsciousness.  "  And  yet  I 
could  find  no  good  and  just  reason  for  remain 
ing  away.  It  bores  me  so  to  think  of  being 
bored  .  .  .  but  I  believe  I  told  you  something 
of  that  sort  before." 

Wainwright  scanned  very  steadily  the  sweet 
bluish  dark  of  her  eyes.  "Do  you  wish  to 
tempt  me  into  a  lecture  ?  "  he  asked.  "  If  so, 
you  will  fail.  Now  that  I  know  you  so  much 
better,  I  think  that  your  peculiar  case  deserves 
the  most  lenient  treatment." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  137 

She  looked  at  him  in  genuine  surprise. 
''  Pray  what  has  made  you  know  me  so  much 
better  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  've  no  idea  how  our  acquaintance 
has  been  progressing  since  last  night.  Don't 
look  so  incredulous.  I  assure  you,  I  am  very 
serious.  You  can't  imagine  how  much  I  have 
been  thinking  about  you.  We  have  reached 
a  condition  of  intimacy  that  is  really  extraor 
dinary." 

She  no  longer  seemed  astonished  ;  she  broke 
into  a  laugh,  and  bent  her  auburn  head,  touch- 
ins:  the  knot  of  violets  at  her  waist  with  ca- 

o 

ressing  lightness. 

"  I  hope  you  have  n't  taken  to  pitying  me," 
she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  sudden  grav 
ity.  "  I  shan't  be  at  all  satisfied  with  your 
compassion." 

"  Still,  I  can't  help  giving  it,"  he  answered, 
with  both  the  quickness  and  warmth  of  im 
pulse.  He  leaned  a  little  nearer  to  her  as  he 
spoke.  "  Is  your  sister  here  to-night?"  he 
asked. 

The  color  stole  rapidly,  though  rather  faintly, 
into  her  face.  The  swift  look  that  she  gave 
him  had  a  vague  distress  in  it,  but  her  slight 
oitter  laugh  seemed  to  express  another  mood. 


[38  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE 

"  I  should  not  be  here  if  Fanny  were  not," 
she  said.  It  struck  him  that  her  tones  were 
now  heavy  with  sarcasm.  "  My  sister  has  an 
idea  that  I  am  still  susceptible  of  reform,  — 
that  I  can  be  moulded  into  shape." 

Wainwright  touched  her  hand  ;  the  touch 
lasted  but  an  instant.  He  was  regarding  her 
very  intently.  "Tell  me,"  he  said,  "why  you 
dismissed  me  so  abruptly  last  night." 

She  started,  and  a  peculiar  expression  that 
lay  midway  between  embarrassment  and  relief 
crossed  her  face. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  spoke  of  it  first,"  she 
said.  "  It  had  to  bespoken  of  between  us,  .  .  . 
of  course." 

"  I  waited  for  you,"  said  Wainwright,  with 
real  tenderness  in  his  moderated  voice,  "  but 
you  seemed  averse  to  begin.  If  the  subject  is 
disagreeable,  we  will  drop  it." 

Ruth  Cheever  shook  her  head  in  prompt 
negative.  "Oh,  no.  It  is  not  disagreeable. 
But  I  feel  that  you  need  no  explanation.  I 
feel  that  you  understand  the  whole  state  of  af 
fairs  very  clearly.  You  have  convinced  me 
that  you  are  remarkably  clever  at  guessing 
••hings." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  139 

There  was  a  little  pause  before  he  spoke 
'  It  did  not  require  much  cleverness,"  he  pres 
ently  said,  "  to  convince  me  that  your  sister  is 
capricious  and  cruel." 

"  I  suppose  that  I  ought  not  to  let  you  say 
that,"  she  murmured,  looking  down  again, 
while  a  sensitive  quiver  stirred  her  lips.  She 
raised  her  eyes  the  next  moment  :  their  gaze 
was  calm  and  direct.  "  Fanny  is  very  merci 
less  at  times,"  she  went  on,  "  and  last  evening 
she  chose  to  be  specially  so.  I  said,  just  be 
fore  you  left,  that  I  would  explain  matters. 
But  really  there  is  not  much  to  explain." 

"  Then  it  was  only  a  stratagem  to  make  me 
go  ? " 

"  Yes  .  .  .  and  no.  ...  Well,  I  will  tell  you 
all  that  need  be  told.  Fanny  and  I  are  some 
how  of  a  different  world.  She  cannot,  or  will 
not,  understand  me.  I  don't  know  that  I  re 
quire  much  effort  for  one  to  understand  me. 
I  can  be  read  without  the  help  of  a  glossary." 

"  Except  when  you  are  willfully  misunder 
stood." 

"You  are  right.  I  don't  know  whether  you 
say  that  only  with  the  pleasant  motive  of  strok- 
•ng  my  fur  the  proper  way,  or  whether  there 


140  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

is  real  sympathy  behind  your  words.  But  all 
the  same,  you  are  right." 

"  Now  you  show  a  cruel  enough  doubt  to 
make  me  remember  that  you  are  Mrs.  Spring's 
sister." 

"  I  thought  you  liked  my  sister." 

"  I  thought  that  I  did,  too,"  said  Wainwright, 
"  though  I  was  not  sure  about  it.  Last  night 
made  me  sure,  however.  I  can't  be  undecided 
any  longer." 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  to  like  in  Fanny.  I 
like  her.  I  love  her  dearly.  I  can't  help  it." 

"  You  are  very  generous  to  say  so." 

"  No,  --  I  am  not  generous.  The  tie  of 
blood  is  strong.  Besides,  Fanny  can  be  kind 
to  those  whom  she  approves  of.  But  she  does 
not  approve  of  me." 

"  I  do  not  require  to  be  told  that  I  am 
afraid  that  I  should  fail,  if  you  won  her  good 
opinion,  to  approve  of  you  myself.  You  de 
cline  to  whirl  through  life  like  a  humming-top. 
You  want  to  sit  down  on  the  roadside,  now 
and  then,  and  look  about  a  little." 

A  spark  left  the  soft  eyes  that  were  turned 
full  upon  Wainwright's  ;  he  hardly  knew  if  it 
were  sad,  or  merry,  or  both.  "  Don't  call  it  a 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  141 

roadside,"  she  said.  "  The  rural  metaphor 
does  n't  apply.  «  Curb-stone  '  would  be  much 
better." 

He  laughed  gently.  "  I  insist  on  my  own 
metaphor.  She  won't  let  you  pick  a  few  wild- 
flowers  occasionally,  and  look  up  at  the  sky. 
That  is  how  the  affair  stands  between  you. 
Let  me  be  more  frank.  I  am  afraid  that  I 
tread  on  thin  ice,  however  ;  one  always  does 
in  broaching  personalities  after  a  short  ac 
quaintance." 

"  You  are  changing  your  ground,"  said  Ruth, 
with  subtle  demureness.  "  I  thought  you  con 
sidered  our  acquaintance  already  an  old  one." 

"That  is  encouraging  in  the  last  degree," 
laughed  Wainwright.  But  his  face  immedi 
ately  sobered  again.  "  I  shall  resume  my  can 
did  attitude,"  he  continued.  "  You  have  re 
minded  me  of  my  right  to  do  so." 

"  Shall  your  candor  take  the  form  of  ad 
vice  ?  "  asked  Ruth,  neutrally  placid. 

"  No.  Only  of  sympathy.  I  am  afraid  to 
advise  you.  I  should  favor  a  much  less  toler 
ant  course  than  the  one  I  have  witnessed  in 
you.  Perhaps  your  resignation  is  better  than 
my  hostility  would  be.  Still,  there  is  always 


[42  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

something  that  one  ought  to  weigh  well  in  the 
idea  of  making  a  firm  stand  against  injustice 
and  tyranny." 

"  I  am  not  resigned,"  said  Ruth.  The  liquid 
sparkle  in  her  dark-blue  eyes  had  warmed  into 
brief,  keen  fire.  "  Not  at  all,  I  assure  you," 
she  went  on.  "  But  I  see  the  folly  of  beating 
against  iron  bars." 

"/should  be  less  philosophic  in  your  case," 
answered  Wainwright,  with  a  sombre  setting 
of  the  lips.  "  I  should  no  doubt  take  the  satis 
faction  of  bruising  myself  recklessly  several 
times." 

"  Ah,"  cried  the  young  girl,  softly,  "  that  is 
just  the  way  you  learn  that  your  bars  are  iron  ! 
No  one  tamely  submits  at  first,  in  a  case  like 
mine.  .  .  .  Fanny  is  my  natural  protector,— 
my  only  near  blood  relation.  I  must  live  with 
her ;  our  wise  social  codes  would  not  let  me 
live  alone."  She  paused  now,  and  knit  her 
forehead  a  little  puzzledly.  "  You  don't  know 
all  yet,"  she  went  on,  in  a  hesitating  way. 
"  You  have  not  learned  my  sister's  chief  rea 
son,  her  giant  reason,  for  disapproving  of  me." 

"I  wish  you  had  left  that  unsaid,"  he  re 
turned,  after  a  slight  silence  between  them. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  143 

"  It  is  such  an  inhuman  style  of  treating  a 
man's  human  share  of  curiosity." 

She  made  no  response.  She  was  looking 
past  him  ;  he  furtively  followed  her  glance,  and 
concluded  that  he  could  trace  it  to  no  more 
active  object  than  one  of  the  stiff  portraits  on 
the  opposite  wall.  Her  face  looked  thought 
ful,  preoccupied  ;  he  wondered,  for  an  instant, 
whether  she  were  not  reflecting  on  some  ex 
tremely  decisive  reply. 

But  none  came.  He  gathered  boldness,  a 
little  later,  and  spoke  with  a  low  ring  of  feel 
ing  in  his  voice  that  gave  it  richness  and 
depth.  He  was  vehemently  in  earnest,  and 
he  wanted  so  much  to  make  this  fact  plain  be 
yond  all  mistake,  that  for  the  time  he  lost  heed 
of  his  usual  deferent  nicety,  and  let  his  tones 
verge  upon  sharp  assertiveness. 

"  I  may  not  know  all,  as  you  say.  But  I 
kiow  that  when  I  left  you  last  night,  at  your 
own  request,  you  were  forlornly  embarrassed 
and  agitated.  And  I  should  like  very  much  to 
aid  you  against  the  infliction  of  further  dis 
tress  from  the  same  cause.  It  seems  to  me 
a  most  unhappy  and  useless  thing  that  you 
should  go  on  suffering  as  I  saw  you  suffer 


[44  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

then.  My  acquaintance  with  your  sister  is 
not  a  new  one.  I  am  willing,  if  you  allow,  to 
risk  her  displeasure  by  reminding  her  that 
those  open  jibes  and  sneers  are  wretchedly 
out  of  taste,  apart  from  any  stronger  term." 

Her  dark  eyes  had  widened  while  she  fixed 
them  on  his  face  during  this  mild  but  firm  out 
burst.  It  evidently  astonished  her,  but  the 
recognition  of  its  tender  chivalry  had  clearly 
appealed  to  her  as  well,  before  Wainwright 
finished. 

"  You  cannot  help  me,"  she  said,  with  a 
faint  quiver  in  her  voice  "  But  you  don't 
know  how  much  I  value  your  wanting  to  do 
so."  As  she  went  on  speaking  her  tone  and 
manner  grew  placid  again.  "  Fanny  would 
find  an  ugly  name  for  your  generous  interces 
sion  ;  she  would  visit  her  wrath  on  me,  as 
veil.  She  cannot  forgive  me  for  not  having 
just  her  tastes  ;  we  are  as  opposite  as  the 
poles,  and  that  constitutes  a  sort  of  imperti 
nence  on  my  part.  Believe  me,  I  must  bear 
whatever  you  saw  me  bear,  —  and  a  great  deal 
more." 

Wainwright  felt,  notwithstanding  the  kindly 
spirit  in  which  his  own  kindness  had  beer 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  145 

taken,  as  if  a  little  decree  had  somehow  been 
passed  to  the  effect  that  both  he  and  his  com 
panion  should  no  longer  regard  the  personal 
side  of  the  present  question.  Ruth  conveyed 
this  by  a  delicate  access  of  dignity,  which  her 
watcher  scarcely  knew  whether  to  find  in  the 
dulcet  compass  of  her  voice,  in  the  deepened 
droop  of  an  eyelid,  or  in  some  closer  meeting 
of  the  lips.  Wainwrigbt  was  sure  that  she  de 
sired  to  speak  no  further  of  her  own  domestic 
troubles.  And  yet  he  was  himself  quite  dis 
satisfied  with  any  such  prospective  arrange 
ment.  He  felt  profoundly  sorry  for  her,  and 
would  have  liked  if  she  had  handed  him,  so  to 
speak,  each  one  of  her  household  grievances, 
that  he  might  make  minute  examination  of  its 
special  offense. 

"  But  your  sister's  principal  reason  for  treat 
ing  you  so  ill  ?  "  he  said.  "  Am  I  not  to  hear 
that  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Not  now,"  she  an 
swered,  and  the  reply  was  tranquilly  positive. 
"  Some  other  time,  perhaps  ;  when  we  know 
each  other  better,  I  mean,  —  if  that  time  ever 
?omes."  .  .  . 

Wainwright  was  about  to  respond  with  a  bit 


{46  A    GE.\  TLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

of  reproach  too  sincere  for  so  light  a  name  as 
gallantry,  when  a  gentleman  stopped  and  shook 
hands  with  Miss  Cheever,  and  at  the  same 
moment  Mr.  Binghamton  touched  his  shoulder 
from  behind. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on,  my  dear  fellow  ?  " 
said  the  Englishman.  "  Ah,  I  see,"  he  added, 
perceiving  the  young  lady  who  had  claimed 
Wainwright's  attention  ;  "  you  have  been  in 
excellent  company."  Immediately  afterward  he 
exchanged  a  greeting  with  Mrs.  Spring's  sister, 
but  at  once  resumed  his  low-voiced  conversa 
tion  with  Wainwright,  while  Ruth  herself  gave 
heed  to  the  smiling  civilities  of  a  young  man 
who  had  a  crisp  little  crescent  of  moustache, 
and  who  pulled  nervously  at  his  watch-chain 
as  though  it  had  some  easy  mechanical  con 
nection  with  his  copious  outflow  of  small-talk. 

"  Excuse  me,"  continued  Mr.  Binghamton,  in 
\MS  decorous,  neatly-keyed  undertone,  "but  it 
will  only  be  good  form  for  you  to  pay  court  a 
little  to  Mrs.  Bodenstein,  some  time  before  the 
german  begins." 

"  Certainly,"  acquiesced  Wainwright.  "  I 
did  not  know  that  she  was  here."  He  slipped 
his  arm  into  Mr.  Binghamton's,  and  made  a 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  147 

short,  formal  bow  in  the  direction  of  Ruth 
Cheever,  which  the  profuse  courtesies  of  her 
new  adherent  may  or  may  not  have  permitted 
her  to  see.  He  appeared  very  willing  to  ac 
company  Mr.  Binghamton.  l<  You  shall  guide 
me  to  Mrs.  Bodenstein,"  he  said,  as  they 
moved  oE  together.  The  prevalent  confusion 
of  tongues  doubtless  made  his  companion  unob 
servant  of  the  indifferent  coolness  with  which 
be  spoke.  "  You  mention  Mrs.  Bodenstein,"  he 
pursued,  while  they  pushed  their  way  through 
the  complex  throng,  "  as  though  she  were  in 
deed  a  great  lady." 

"  Bless  me,"  said  Mr.  Binghamton,  "  she  is 
such  a  great  lady  that  it's  actually  amusing. 
Why,  do  you  know,  it  went  all  through  these 
rooms,  about  ten  minutes  ago,  in  a  sort  of 
awed  murmur,  '  Mrs.  Bodenstein  is  here ! ' 
just  as  if  they  had  said  ;  'The  Queen  has  ar 
rived  !  '  I  wonder  what  it  is  that  gives  that 
woman  such  a  positively  royal  prestige." 

11  Her  great  wealth,  her  good  descent  ?  "  sug 
gested  Wainwright,  still  carelessly.  He  was 
thinking  of  something  else. 

"  No  ;  not  at  all.  I  know  plenty  of  women 
is  wealthy,  plenty  as  well  descended.  It  is  not 
ier  beautv,  either." 


148  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  Pray,  what  is  it,  then  ? "  asked  Wainwright, 
caring  but  slightly  for  the  answer,  in  his 
present  mood. 

"  Her  robust  and  expansive  stupidity.  It 's 
her  crowning  quality.  It  puts  the  last  touch 
upon  her  adaptability  as  a  leader  of  fashion.  If 
she  had  been  brilliant,  or  even  mildly  clever,  she 
would  have  made  enemies.  As  it  is,  society 
has  let  her  slip  into  its  chair  of  state.  She  has 
the  grand  manner  ;  she  is  beautiful ;  she  is  ex 
ceptionally  patrician  in  all  ways  ;  and  she  has 
no  brains  at  all.  I  am  not  sure,  by  the  way, 
if  that  is  n't  her  most  patrician  quality,  —  to 
have  no  brains  at  all.  In  any  case,  she  makes 
the  most  admirable  figure-head  that  it  could 
have  been  possible  to  select." 

Wainwright,  at  this  point,  grasped  his 
friend's  arm  with  some  vigor.  "  What  a 
charming  creature  !  "  he  whispered,  referring 
to  a  young  girl  directly  in  front  of  them. 

This  young  girl  was  tall  and  exceedingly 
s  ender ;  she  had  a  radiant  face,  of  the  purest 
pink  and  white.  Her  features  were  cut  with 
faultless  exactitude  ;  her  head  was  small,  and 
placed  above  her  long  throat  and  swan-like 
shoulders  with  an  enchanting  grace  of  poise 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  149 

She  had  hair  as  golden  as  spun  gold  itself, 
and  her  rounded  chin  was  almost  cleft  by  one 
deep  dimple.  She  held  a  mass  of  bouquets,  — 
violets,  roses,  lilies-of-the-valley  —  in  a  some 
what  drooping  manner,  as  though  the  burden 
wearied  her.  There  was  indeed  a  willowy  sort 
of  languor  in  the  girl's  attitude  ;  and  about  her 
face,  notwithstanding  its  mirth  and  bloom, 
hovered  an  expression  of  that  disdain  which 
comes  from  the  fatigue  of  conquest.  Wain- 
wright  felt  that  with  all  its  beauty  it  was 
almost  an  arrogant  face ;  but  he  somehow  for 
gave  it  for  being  so  ;  its  sorcery  made  even 
arrogance  delightful. 

"Ah,  you  may  well  ask  who  she  is,"  replied 
Mr.  Binghamton  ;  and  he  repeated  the  young 
girl's  name,  which  sounded  to  his  hearer  re 
markably  Dutch  and  quite  unfamiliar.  "That 
lovely  creature  is  the  great  belle  of  the  pres 
ent  season,"  he  continued.  "  Is  she  not  de- 
.icious  ?  Watch  how  she  treats  that  cluster 
of  men  ;  they  are  sometimes  grateful  even  for 
her  impertinences.  She  has  made  a  tremen 
dous  success,  that  girl."  Here  Wamwright's 
associate  burst  out  laughing.  "By  Jove,"  he 
proceeded,  "  what  a  contrast  !  .  .  .  Only  a 


150  A    bUNTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

yard  or  two  further  on  stands  our  friend  Mis 
Spuytenduyvil." 

"  Yes,  I  see  her." 

"  Note  her  mincing,  priggish  look,  as  she 
talks  to  that  spare  gentleman  with  the  curved 
nose.  Here  is  the  patrician  idea,  presented  in 
two  opposite  aspects.  All  that's  attractive 
and  picturesque  in  the  idea  is  typified  by  that 
popular  golden-haired  belle ;  all  that 's  repel 
ling,  insolent,  and  unpalatable  about  it  is  to  be 
found  in  Miss  Spuytenduyvil,  with  her  elbows 
as  sharp  as  her  social  prejudices  and  her 
smiles  as  sour  as  her  theories.  Ah,  there 's 
nothing  like  looking  at  the  same  question 
from  two  sides.  That  exquisite  damsel  makes 
one  think  of  the  Petit  Trianon  and  the  Grand 
Monarque  ;  Miss  Spuytenduyvil  recalls  the 
Conciergerie,  and  is  a  mild  justification  for  the 
Reign  of  Terror." 

Wainwright  laughed  ;  he  had  begun  to  draw 
steady  amusement  from  his  new  friend's  vola 
tile  exaggerations  and  extravagances,  where  sc 
often  slept  a  spark  of  rare  sense,  and  not  sel 
dom  of  apt  wit  as  well.  "  To  whom  is  Miss 
Spuytenduyvil  talking  ? "  he  asked.  He  re 
membered  that  her  present  companion  was 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  1 5  I 

the  same  tall,  gray  gentleman  whom  he  had 
seen  in  Ruth  Cheever's  company  on  first  join 
ing  her. 

"  That  is  Mr.  Beekman  Amsterdam,"  was 
the  reply ;  and  then  followed  a  brief  but 
graphic  account  of  the  gentleman's  high  dis 
tinction  in  the  way  of  caste  and  wealth.  "  Do 
you  know,"  proceeded  Mr.  Binghamton,  "it  is 
a  fact  that  Ruth  Cheever  has  repeatedly  re 
fused  that  considerable  personage  ?  See  how 
grim  Miss  Spuytenduyvil  looks  ;  she  is  his 
first  cousin.  I  suspect  that  she  is  rebuking 
him  for  having  threatened  her  with  so  unde 
sirable  a  connection." 

Wainwright  started  ;  the  light  words  chafed 
him.  "Is  Miss  Cheever  undesirable?"  he 
asked.  "  I  should  say  quite  otherwise." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  fellow.  .  .  .  Amsterdam  is  a 
perfect  fish,  of  course,  —  tiresome,  bloodless, 
inane  ;  but  then  it 's  widely  allowed  that  Ruth 
Cheever  makes  a  grand  mistake  in  refusing 
him.  Recollect  that  horrid  brother-in-law, 
Townsend  ;  think  of  that  vulgar  little  Lyddy, 
with  Jim  Abernethy,  a  married  man,  follow 
ing  her  about  everywhere,  —  you  '11  find  them 
in  some  corner  together  to-night,  I  don't  doubt 


152  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

at  all  ;  and  then,  Fanny  Spring,  with  so 
much  style  that  she  's  bad  style,  always  rush 
ing  about  so,  and  not  caring  a  fig  for  '  tone.' 
Ah,  Ruth  Cheever  has  made  a  mistake,  —  de 
pend  upon  it.  One  day  she  '11  be  sorry.  Good 
heavens  !  I  should  think  the  poor  girl  would 
take  any  chance  of  getting  out  of  that  wretched 
family.  Town  send  will  smash  up,  some  day  ; 
then  where  will  she  be  ?  Amsterdam  would 
give  her  thirty  thousand  dollars  a  year  just  for 
herself,  if  she  'd  take  him." 

Wainwright  was  now  looking  straight  at  Mr. 
Amsterdam  through  a  vista  of  intervening 
finery  and  broadcloth.  The  man  had  a  color- 
less,  ascetic  face  ;  he  had  fixed  his  dull  eye  on 
Miss  Spuytenduyvil,  who  appeared  laying 
down  the  law  to  him  in  her  stony,  dogmatic 
way.  He  had  a  large  cold  arch  of  nose,  and  a 
breadth  of  upper  lip  so  great  as  to  convey  the 
idea  that  he  could  at  will  shroud  the  whole 
lower  portion  of  his  face  under  its  clean-shorn, 
capacious  expanse. 

"  Perhaps  Mr.  Amsterdam  means  that  she 
si  all  take  him,  after  all,"  said  Wainwright. 
"The  man  usually  conquers,  in  such  cases,"  he 
tvent  on,  an  unwonted  dash  of  cynicism  min 
gling  with  his  words  and  manner. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  153 

"  Oh,  Amsterdam  will  get  her,"  said  Mr. 
Binghamton,  off-handedly,  "if  he  only  perse 
veres." 

Wainwright  turned  suddenly  toward  the 
speaker.  "  Do  you  really  believe  so  ? "  he 
said. 

"  Oh,  of  course.  The  pressure  is  too  strong. 
I  don't  doubt  that  the  girl  abominates  him  ;  I 
should  think  she  might.  But  then  there  are 
the  reasons  I  've  already  told  you  of  ;  and  be 
sides,  her  sister,  Mrs.  Spring,  keeps  up  an  in 
cessant  persecution  ;  it  is  n't  a  constant  drop 
ping  ;  it 's  a  sort  of  steady  shower-bath.  She 
thinks  it  preposterous  that  Ruth  should  refuse 
any  such  parti  as  Beekman  Amsterdam,  and 
tells  her  so,  with  varied  ornamentations  of 
phraseology,  about  seven  times  a  week." 

"  Poor  girl ! "  said  Wainwright  under  his 
breath.  Mr.  Binghamton  did  not  hear  the 
comment ;  it  was  spoken  too  low. 


IX. 


i|T  this  precise  period  in  his  experience, 
Wainwright  found  himself  a  prey  to 
ffU-^'s&x  diverse  bewilderments,  as  we  know  ; 
but  a  definite  emotion  was  also  rapidly  strength 
ening  within  him,  like  some  growth  that  un 
folds  with  tropic  haste.  To  use  a  rather  cold 
blooded  phrase,  he  bad  been,  from  the  hour  of 
his  landing,  an  admirable  subject  for  impres 
sions.  He  had  crossed  the  sea  with  no  pre 
conceived  opinions  ;  he  had  lived  in  that  por 
tion  of  the  English  world  which  does  most  of 
its  thinking  after  methods  that  are  sometimes 
moderately  European,  when  not  comfortably 
insular.  His  mind  was  not  cobwebbed  with 
any  of  that  gross  ignorance  regarding  our 
country  which  it  is  fair  to  call  by  no  means  a 
legendary  flaw  in  British  civilization.  He  had 
no  crude  expectations  of  discovering  a  prairie 


A   GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  155 

on  the  outskirts  of  New  York,  or  of  purchas 
ing  cigars  from  an  Indian  tobacconist.  He 
had  prepared  himself,  in  a  rather  careless  way, 
to  find  remarkable  things  on  the  other  side  of 
the  ocean  ;  but  his  anticipations  had  been  con 
tent  to  deal  with  the  prospect  of  vast  topo 
graphical  distances,  of  startling  commercial 
enterprise,  and  of  general  precocious  prosper 
ity  not  usually  coexistent  with  a  mere  century 
or  so  of  national  youth.  He  had  thought 
very  little  about  the  people  whom  he  should 
find  here ;  he  had  received  no  stimulus  to  ex 
ercise  his  imagination  in  this  respect,  for  it  had 
been  his  fate  to  feel  only  a  sense  of  dreary 
drollery  when  observing  certain  strangers  in 
London  who  were  pointed  out  to  him  as 
"  American."  He  loved  the  refinements  of 
/.fe ;  extreme  fastidiousness  was  the  one  dom 
inating  trait  of  his  temuerament  ;  an  enemy 
might  sometimes  have  called  him  finical  or  dil 
ettante,  though  it  is  doubtful  if  ever  with  just 
-eason.  In- this  matter  of  refinement  he  had 
expected  nothing  from  his  new  surroundings. 
It  was  the  happy  nature  of  his  disappointment, 
here,  that  had  formed  the  chief  source  of  his 
great  surprise.  But  he  could  not  agree  with 


156  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Mrs.  Spring  that  the  social  picture,  as  it  now 
met  his  view,  was  merely  a  slavish  copy. 
While  a  few  more  days  passed  he  went  to  a  few 
more  entertainments  ;  he  began  to  be  con 
vinced  that  in  our  mental  as  in  our  material 
atmosphere  lay  a  tingling  freshness  wholly 
nove)  and  characteristic.  He  met  quicker  wit, 
prompter  decision,  less  formality  of  intelli 
gence,  less  needless  deliberation  and  sobriety. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  we  drove  at  a  livelier 
pace  than  they  did  in  England,  but  that  we 
avoided  quite  as  many  ruts  and  stones.  As  a 
people  we  fascinated  him  ;  he  did  not  like 
what  was  coarse  about  us  any  better  than 
he  liked  what  was  coarse  about  the  country 
he  had  just  left.  Our  inconsistencies  often 
amused  him  as  grotesque  ;  our  follies  and 
foibles  often  wore  to  him  a  break-neck  rash 
ness  ;  our  very  independence  had  sometimes 
a  distressing  braggadocio.  He  was  perpetually 
wondering  at  our  restless  modes  of  living,  our 
feverish  tendency  to  annihilate  time  and  to 
nullify  space,  our  apparent  constitutional  feud 
with  the  idea  of  leisure.  He  had  repeatedly 
paused  in  the  midst  of  •  a  crowded  street, 
and  looked  about  him  at  what  seemed  our 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  157 

violent  energy  of  pedestrianism.  On  one 
special  morning,  when  a  harsh  snowfall  had 
been  followed  by  bland  sunshine,  with  the  drip 
of  melted  icicles  from  overhead  and  the  retard 
ments  ot  treacherous  slush  underfoot,  this  uni 
versal  bustle  and  hurry  grew  doubly  notable. 
The  clamp,  bright  languor  of  the  thaw  found 
no  analogy  among  the  swift-footed  passers, 
who  evaded  its  glittering  water-drops  and 
forded  its  viscous  refuse  with  unlessened 
speed.  He  missed  the  loitering  steps,  the 
ruddy  visages,  the  placid  surrender  to  indo 
lence,  which  had  so  long  been  for  him  an  ac 
cepted  fact  in  London  thoroughfares.  The 
incessant  activity  which  engirt  him  at  times 
wore  unwholesome  suggestions  ;  many  of  the 
faces  borne  past  his  eye  appeared  to  it  pale  as 
though  from  stress  of  toil,  and  sharpened  to 
unwonted  leanness  by  the  worry  of  competi 
tive  contest.  Again,  this  same  wide  evidence 
of  taxed  human  force  touched  him  with  the 
goad  of  self-reproach.  He  felt  as  if  a  rebuk 
ing  mirror  were  being  held  up  to  his  own  idle 
ness.  Nearly  everybody  about  him  seemed 
laboring  hard  to  live  ;  industry,  aim,  purpose, 
•verc  everywhere  ;  he  caught,  in  a  certain 


[58  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

sense,  the  contagion  of  thrifty  zeal,  and  yet 
remained  practically  a  drone  amid  the  eager 
hive.  It  vexed  him  to  find  so  many  people 
struggling  to  do  or  to  be  something  important. 
He  was  annoyed  that  fate  should  have  given 
him  nothing  that  he  cared  to  strive  after, — 
that  she  should  have  made  him  as  important 
as  he  had  any  inclination  for  becoming.  When 
he  strolled  during  a  morning  into  the  Metro 
politan  Club,  of  which  he  had  been  made  what 
is  called  a  six  months'  visitor,  he  found  there 
very  few  loungers  like  himself ;  and  those 
whom  he  did  meet  began  gradually  to  irritate 
him  as  co-victims  of  an  unfortunate  prosperity. 
Their  conversation  soon  proved  wearisome  ;  it 
was  usually  about  horses,  and  though  VVain- 
wright  loved  to  drive  or  ride  a  good  horse,  he 
objected  to  making  either  occupation  the  sov 
ereign  motive  of  his  existence.  Among  these 
gentlemen  he  constantly  met  Mr.  Gansevoort. 
The  latter  was  always  very  glad  to  see  him. 
He  was  freshly  raimented  every  morning ; 
Wainwright  had  the  fancy  that  steamers  must 
be  continually  bringing  him  new  toilets  over 
the  water,  to  judge  by  the  prodigal  variety  of 
his  costumes.  It  was  diverting,  at  first,  tc 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  159 

study  the  adroitness  of  his  English  imitation, 
and  to  try  and  decide  just  how  far  it  fell  short 
of  original  models.  Mr.  Gansevoort  walked, 
talked,  sat  down,  got  up,  smoked  his  cigar,  and 
carried  his  umbrella  precisely  like  an  English 
man,  and  yet  the  trained  vision  of  Wainwright 
saw  that  it  was  all  spurious  mannerism,  and 
not  unconscious  habit.  The  matter  was  there, 
so  to  speak,  but  the  inspiring  soul  remained 
absent.  He  sometimes,  cruelly  longed  for  a 
chance  to  let  Mr.  Gansevoort  know  that  the 
truth  continued  patent  through  all  his  disguis 
ing  tact.  Once,  while  seated  in  the  reading- 
room,  intent  on  a  morning  paper,  he  over 
heard  a  friend  with  whom  Mr.  Gansevoort  was 
talking  utter  the  following  sentence,  whose 
tone  and  manner  were  not  at  all  according  to 
the  British  pattern  :  — 

"Well,  I  had  some  good  sport  on  that  lake 
last  summer.  I  fished  with  a  pole  for  three 
steady  hours." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Gansevoort.  He  had  crossed 
his  legs  in  an  attitude  of  lazy  grace  ;  he  had 
on  a  woolly  sack-coat,  extremely  light  in  shade, 
and  trousers  of  such  dark  hue  as  to  make  the 
contrast  especially  striking;  he  also  wore  gait- 


[60  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

ers,  whose  upper  portions  were  of  yellowisl 
cloth,  and  dotted  with  little  pearl  buttons. 
He  was  smoothing  his  blond  moustache  gently 
svilh  one  hand  ;  the  other  held  a  half-burnt 
cigarette.  "By  Jove,"  he  went  on,  "it  sounds 
infernally  odd,  my  dear  boy,  to  hear  a  man  talk 
of  fishing  with  a  pole.  I  suppose  you  mean 
a  rod." 

"  Oh,  well,  a  rod,  if  you  choose,"  replied  the 
other,  in  good-humored  conciliation.  "Any 
way,  I  caught  four  dozen  fine  trout." 

Mr.  Gansevoort  laughed.  He  threw  his  cig 
arette  among  some  big  logs  that  crackled  in 
ruddy  turmoil  under  the  artistic,  tiled  mantel. 
"  Upon  my  word,  I  beg  your  pardon,  old  fel 
low,"  he  said,  with  enough  politeness  to  blunt 
annoyance,  "  but  it  always  amuses  them  so  on 
the  other  side  when  we  speak  about  catching 
fish.  There  they  don't  catch  them,  you  know  ; 
they  kill  them." 

Wainwright  rose,  at  this  point,  abandoning 
h;s  newspaper.  It  is  true,  he  had  finished  a 
ong  editorial  column  on  a  political  subject,  and 
wanted  to  reflect  over  it  a  little.  He  had  of  late 
read  a  number  of  similar  articles,  and  found  that 
their  substance  often  demanded  considerable 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  l6l 

reflection.  He  had  begun  to  be  interested  as 
well  as  confused  by  transatlantic  politics. 

In  the  afternoons,  when  the  club  became  en 
livened  by  numerous  members  who  had  re 
turned  from  their  several  "down  town"  oc 
cupations,  he  would  frequently  ask,  regarding 
oui  government,  questions  in  which  he  was 
careful  to  conceal,  if  possible,  the  full  measure 
of  his  regretted  ignorance.  But  the  answers 
which  he  received  struck  him,  for  the  most 
part,  as  unsatisfactory.  They  were  spoken 
trippingly  on  the  tongue,  and  gave  no  sign 
that  those  who  made  them  had  paid  any 
thoughtful  heed  to  the  vital  subjects  which 
they  involved.  He  said  one  day  to  Mr.  Bing- 
hamton,  — 

"  Why  is  it  that  the  men  here  don't  go  into 
politics  ? " 

The  Englishman  creased  his  little  tawny 
forehead,  and  gave  one  of  his  mirthful  cackles. 
"There  are  too  many  men  who  do  go,  but  not 
half  enough  gentlemen,  —  more 's  the  pity." 

Wainwright  looked  all  about  him  ;  he  even 
made  a  slight,  sweeping  motion  with  his  hand. 
The  big  room  was  quite  populous  with  mem 
bers  ;  in  the  alcoves  of  three  broad  windows 


1 62  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE, 

facing  upon  Fifth  Avenue  sat  or  stood  three 
large  groups.  "  Do  you  mean,"  said  Wain- 
vvright,  "that  all  these  men  never  concern 
themselves  with  the  politics  of  their  country?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  laughed  Mr.  Binghamton.  "  They 
are  always  very  active  just  before  the  impor 
tant  elections." 

"How?" 

"In  making  bets." 

Wainwright  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "And 
these  are  our  best  citizens,"  he  presently  said. 
"  I  mean,  those  who  have  the  largest  share  of 
wealth,  culture,  and  breeding." 

"Take  them  all  in  all,  yes,"  answered  Mr. 
Binghamton. 

"These  are  the  men  who  would  entertain 
any  great  foreign  dignitary,  —  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  for  instance,  if  he  came  to  our  shores  ?" 

Mr  Binghamton  nodded.  "  Some  of  them 
did  entertain  the  Prince  when  he  did  come," 
was  his  reply. 

Wainwright  said  nothing  more  ;  but  he 
Looked  like  a  man  whose  thoughts  are  grave. 
While  he  stood  with  head  momentarily  drooped, 
a  young  man  with  a  very  unsuccessful  draw' 
passed  him  at  the  side  of  a  friend.  "  Every 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  163 

body  laughed  at  me,"  said  the  young  man, 
"for  bringing  over  so  many  things.  But  I 
find  I  did  n't  bring  over  half  enough.  One 
can't  really  get  anything  decent  to  wear  here." 
(The  speaker  pronounced  it  "heah.")  "  Can 
one  ? " 

The  valuable  reply  to  this  unpatriotic  appeal 
was  lost  in  distance.  But  Wainwright  had 
little  doubt  as  to  the  unqualified  nature  of  its 
negative.  He  had  already  a  secure  private 
theory  that  something  very  scandalous  must 
be  said  about  America  in  the  Metropolitan 
Club  to  elicit  a  contradictory  retort. 

As  Mrs.  Spring  had  prophesied,  he  soon 
found  himself  the  object  of  much  social  favor  ; 
he  was  often  asked  to  balls  and  dinners,  and  it 
is  safe  to  say  that  he  was  flooded  with  cards 
for  kettledrums.  But  contrary  to  Mrs.  Spring's 
prophecy,  on  the  other  hand,  he  felt  himself 
very  far  from  disliking  his  new  life.  More 
than  once  he  suspected  that  Mrs.  Spencer  Van- 
derhoff  had  built  her  rhapsody  about  Ameri 
can  womanhood  upon  a  solid  basis  of  truth. 
To  speak  in  general  terms,  most  of  the  women 
whom  he  had  thus  far  met  since  his  arrival 
n.pressed  him  as  original,  breezy,  buoyant, 


164  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

exhilarating.  They  lacked  the  winsome  con 
straint  of  their  English  sisterhood,  and  the 
tender,  unconscious  prudery  which  so  often, 
previous  to  marriage,  among  the  latter,  seems 
to  partake  of  an  effect  as  vernal  and  poetic  as 
dew  on  young  clover.  But  Wainwright's  vigi 
lant  observance  had  soon  discovered  that  the 
self-possession  of  the  American  girl,  her  bold 
flights  of  candor,  her  saucy  assaults  against 
conventionalism,  and  her  occasional  trick  of 
doing  innocent  things  in  a  wise  and  worldly 
way  were  all  resultant  from  an  educational 
system  where  liberty  of  conduct  and  purity  of 
motive  hold  equal  control. 

For  several  days  after  the  Grosvenor  ball  he 
saw  no  member  of  Mrs.  Spring's  household, 
with  the  exception  of  its  master,  whom  he 
once  or  twice  met  in  the  great  lower  hall  of 
the  club,  at  an  hour  verging  upon  midnight. 
Townsend,  at  these  times,  had  usually  just 
entered,  and  was  on  his  way  up-stairs  to  the 
card-room.  Wainwright,  who  seldom  played 
cards,  refused,  on  each  occasion,  to  join  him 
in  proposed  deeds  of  hazard.  Townsend 
Spring  was  profusely  cordial,  and  quite  as  vul 
gar  as  ever.  It  struck  Wainwright  that  this 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  165 

gentleman  presented  the  most  repelling  per 
sonality  that  he  had  yet  encountered.  He 
had  already  learned  that  Townsend  passed 
among  associates  for  good-natured  and  harm 
less,  but  Wainwright  confessed  to  an  un 
charitable  sensation  that  his  crude  faculties, 
so  often  dulled  with  drink,  prevented  him  from 
being  either.  He  could  ill  connect  a  single 
chivalrous  or  amiable  trait  with  so  much 
odious  coarseness.  He  had  a  settled  belief  in 
the  noble  worth  of  what  are  called  mere  man 
ners,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  no  one  could 
pass  through  life  at  such  a  clumsy  stumble 
without  unconsciously  crushing  half  the  fine 
growths  that  lay  along  his  path.  Townsend 
always  appeared  delighted  to  see  Wainwright. 
He  wrung  the  latter's  hand  on  the  occasion  of 
their  last  meeting,  and  delivered  a  sentence  in 
which  "devilish  glad"  and  "old  boy"  were 
mingled  with  more  heartiness  than  coherence. 
Underneath  Wainwright' s  distaste  for  the  man 
had  always  lain  a  secret  doubt  lest  he  did  him 
an  injustice  by  so  roundly  condemning  him. 
This  doubt  deepened  as  Townsend's  warm 
squeeze  of  the  hand  tightened,  and  perhaps  put 
a  flavor  of  new  graciousness  into  Wainwright's 
manner. 


1 66  A    GENTLEMAN   OF  LEISURE, 

"  Fanny  was  talking  about  you  yesterday," 
said  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Spring.  "  She' s  going 
to  have  a  tea-fight  in  a  day  or  two,  and  wanted 
to  know  where  she  should  send  you  your 
ticket.  I  told  her  here:  that  was  right,  wasn't 
it  ?  She  wanted  to  give  a  big  dinner-party,  in 
stead,  but  I  said  I  'd  be  damned  if  I  'd  stand 
the  racket."  Here  Townsend  Spring  looked  at 
the  marble  floor  with  a  sort  of  animal  sullen- 
ness  on  his  florid  face.  "  Things  are  getting 
infernally  panicky  in  the  Street, —  and  there  's 
that  wife  of  mine  running  up  bills  at  the  dress 
maker's  and  flouncing  into  bric-a-brac  shops, 
just  as  if  I  'd  made  a  devil  of  a  strike  in  some 
thing.  Tell  you  what  it  is,  Wainwright,"  con 
tinued  the  speaker,  elliptically,  "  don't  marry. 
Biggest  mistake  in  the  world  for  a  man  like 
you  or  myself."  .  .  .  Here  Townsend  tapped 
his  companion's  breast,  and  then  tapped  his 
own,  as  if  to  show  their  complete  uniformity 
of  tastes  and  attributes.  "  Marriage  does  n't 
help  us  a  bit  ;  it  wasn't  meant  for  fellows  of 
our  stamp  ;  we  ...  we  appreciate  our  liberty, 
don't  you  see,  and  know  how  to  make  the 
most  of  it." 

These  later  sentences  quite  destroyed  Wain- 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  1 6? 

Wright's  moocl  of  tolerance.  He  had  a  sharp 
realization  of  how  much  he  really  appreciated 
his  liberty,  and  managed  to  end  the  present 
interview,  for  that  reason,  as  speedily  as  pos 
sible.  There  was  something  about  the  inclu- 
siveness  of  Townsend,  when  referring  to  "fel 
lows  of  our  stamp,"  that  left  a  sharp  sting ; 
although  Wainwright  soon  charged  himself,  in 
amused  soliloquy,  with  egotistic  sensitiveness 
for  so  often  remembering  it.  But  those  other 
words  about  the  household  affairs  of  the 
Springs  —  uttered  aloud  in  what  their  hearer 
could  consider  only  the  most  unpardonable 
violation  of  all  correct  and  refined  feeling  — 
had  likewise  left  their  echo  in  the  young  man's 
spirit  ;  and  a  melancholy  echo  it  was.  He 
could  imagine  how  at  least  one  member  of  that 
household  must  tremble  under  the  shadow  of 
its  possible  ruin,  and  deplore  the  reckless,  un- 
wifely  follies  that  were  bruited  abroad,  to  be 
come  the  gossip  of  club-cliques  in  their  leisure 
for  tempting  scandals. 

If  Wainwright  had  not  gone  to  the  Springs 
since  the  visit  already  chronicled,  it  was  not 
because  Ruth  Cheever  had  failed  to  occupy  a 
good  share  of  his  thoughts.  It  was  clear  tc 


1 68  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

him  that  she  held  a  strangely  pitiable  position 
in  her  sister's  abode  ;  it  was,  moreover,  clear 
to  him  that  she  was  so  high-strung  and  true- 
fibred  as  to  shrink  from  having  the  depth  of 
her  wounds  even  compassionately  gazed  upon. 
In  thinking  afterward  of  his  own  proffer  to  aid 
her,  he  had  decided  that  it  partook  of  an  al 
most  grotesque  quixotism.  Her  answer  had 
seemed  to  him  both  sensible  and  indulgent ;  he 
could  not  review  the  matter  without  conclud 
ing  that  she  had  given  his  somewhat  unwar 
ranted  advances  considerably  better  treatment 
than  they  deserved. 

The  invitation  of  which  Town  send  Spring 
had  spoken  arrived  on  the  following  day.  It 
asked  Wainwright's  presence  at  a  kettledrum, 
and  in  due  time  he  went.  He  found  the  up 
per  drawing-rooms  of  Mrs.  Spring's  basement- 
house  thronged  with  guests,  who  were  mostly 
ladies,  and  whose  conversational  clamor,  as  he 
crossed  the  main  threshold,  produced  an  effect 
of  hysterical  violence.  The  ladies  were  all 
clad  in  bonnets  and  walking-suits,  excepting 
Mrs.  Spring,  who  shone  resplendent  in  a  cos 
tume  of  van-colored  silks  ;  Miss  Lydia,  whom 
he  afterwards  discovered  huddled  behind  the 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  169 

angle  of  a  cabinet,  with  Mr.  Abernethy's  olive 
complexion  and  black  eyes  only  a  few  inches 
from  her  own  pouting,  peach-hued  face  ;  and 
Ruth  Cheever,  darkly  attired,  composed,  exqui 
sitely  graceful,  and  a  little  paler  than  when  he 
had  last  seen  her. 

''It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  find  some  one 
whom  I  know,"  he  said,  pausing  at  Ruth's  side 
after  he  had  shaken  hands  with  her. 

"  I  am  glad  to  relieve  your  discomfiture," 
she  replied,  smiling.  "  But  I  supposed  that  if 
you  came  this  afternoon  you  would  know  a 
number  of  people." 

"  Pray,  why  ?  "  asked  Wainwright. 

"  Because  you  have  been  going  about  so 
much.  We  seem  to  have  missed  each  other, 
but  then  I  have  heard  of  you  here,  there,  and 
everywhere." 

Wainwright  laughed.  "  I  did  n't  know  that 
I  left  any  trail  behind  me,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
had  so  discouraging  a  time,  between  ourselves, 
chat  I  imagined  that  nobody  had  given  me  a 
thought." 

"  Oh,  you  are  mistaken  there.  And  why 
have  you  had  a  discouraging  time  ? " 

"  Disappointment  is  always  slow  work,  when 


I/O  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

it  is  prolonged  through  a  series  of  evening  en 
tertainments  and  afternoon  teas." 

"  Disappointment  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  been  looking  for  somebody 
whom  I  found  it  impossible  to  meet.  But  at 
.ast  I  have  been  successful.  I  feel  very  much 
like  being  congratulated." 

She  fixed  her  eyes  calmly  upon  his  face. 
He  thought  that  he  had  never  known  till  then 
how  blue  they  were,  and  yet  how  shadowy. 
"  Let  me  congratulate  you  on  your  good  for 
tune,"  she  said,  with  admirable  seriousness. 

Again  he  laughed.  "  Oh,  thanks ;  you 
need  n't.  It  would  sound  quite  too  vain,  and  I 
know  you  are  not  that." 

Ruth  slightly  tossed  her  head.  For  an  in 
stant  he  almost  thought  that  she  was  dis 
pleased.  "  I  am  sure  you  can't  have  had  a 
discouraging  time,"  she  said,  "  in  your  recent 
socia.  movements.  You  must  have  found 
many  chances  to  enjoy  your  own  talent  for 
saying  insincere  things  handsomely." 

Wainwright  took  a  very  earnest  air.  "  Upon 
my  word,"  he  declared,  "I  have  wanted  ex 
ceedingly  to  have  another  glimpse  of  you." 

"  There  was  an  easy  way  of  securing  that. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  I /I 

Just  behind  Ruth  spread  a  brilliant  screen, 
where  orange  parrots,  haughty  in  sewing  silk, 
reared  their  crests  against  a  sky  of  crimson 
embroidery.  This  vivid  background  gave  her 
figure  a  sharp  relief,  clothed  as  it  was  in 
dark,  trim  vestments,  and  stole  from  it  new 
graces  of  curvilinear  litheness.  Warm  lights 
broke  and  changed  in  her  auburn  hair,  which 
had  been  so  disposed  about  her  small,  charming 
head  as  to  make  a  cluster  behind  of  thick  rolls 
and  loops,  whose  density  could  not  hide  the 
wave  running  through  every  tress.  She  had 
loosely  folded  her  arms,  so  that  they  seemed 
only  to  rest  upon  her  bosom,  and  the  flowing 
sleeves  that  she  wore  showed  their  white  shape 
liness.  Her  head  was  thrown  slightly  side 
ways  ;  she  made  a  most  delightful  picture  ; 
Wainwright  felt  as  if  his  pulse  quickened  a 
ittle  while  he  watched  her. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  you  mean  that  I  might 
have  come  here.  But  how  could  I  believe 
myself  welcome  after  my  presence  had  seemed, 
that  evening,  to  increase  your  distress  ?  " 

She  started,  and  he  saw  her  mouth  grow 
•  very  grave.  "  I  made  a  mistake  in  asking  you 
to  go,  that  night,"  she  said.  "You  must  have 
thought  it  strange  enough." 


1/2  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  regret  dismissing  me. 
That  is  a  dreary  reflection,  since  I  took  pleas 
ure  in  befriending  you,  even  with  my  absence." 
After  a  brief  pause  he  went  on,  lowering  his 
voice.  "  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I  had  got  to 
know  you  very  well  the  first  time  we  met,  but 
had  been  losing  ground,  so  to  speak,  ever 
since." 

"  This  is  only  the  third  time.  And  our  sur 
roundings  were  so  different  when  we  first  saw 
each  other." 

"  Yours  were  most  disagreeable,"  he  said. 
He  drew  a  little  nearer  to  her.  "I  hope  they 
have  altered  for  the  better  ;  and  yet  that  would 
seem  improbable." 

"They  have  not  altered  for  the  better,"  she 
answered,  and  he  fancied  that  her  lip  trem 
bled  as  her  soft,  shining  eyes  sought  the  floor. 

A  slight  pause  followed.  "  I  am  very 
sorry,"  Wainwright  at  length  said,  in  a  voice 
that  amply  indicated  his  regret.  "  Does  it  an 
noy  you  to  have  me  speak  on  this  subject  ?" 

She  lifted  her  look  quickly.  "  No.  Why 
do  you  ask  that  ? " 

"  You  seemed  to  think  me  aggressive,  at  the 
great  ball  where  we  last  met.  Or  did  I  merely 
Imagine  this  ? " 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  173 

A  sad  smile  crossed  her  face  and  vanished. 
'*  Frankly,  I  thought  you  a  little  curious  then. 
But  I  had  given  you  the  right  to  be.  I  have 
thought  it  all  over  since,  and  I  feel  assured 
that  you  were  only  friendly." 

"That  is  comforting.  Such  a  change  of 
heart  reconciles  me  with  having  been  misap 
prehended." 

Another  pause  followed  between  them. 

"Won't  you  have  a  cup  of  tea?"  Ruth 
presently  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  n't,  if  you  agree 
to  make  it  for  me." 

They  walked  together  through  the  loqua 
cious  multitude  into  a  rear  apartment.  Here 
was  a  table  loaded  with  a  beaming  tea-equipage 
of  silver,  and  a  collection  of  wide-brimmed 
porcelain  cups,  with  tiny  flowers  deftly  painted 
on  their  brittle  frailty.  Ruth  poured  the  tea 
into  one  of  these,  clouded  its  pinkish  liquid 
with  a  dainty  dash  of  milk,  and  then  poised 
over  the  cup  a  white  block  of  sugar,  held  be 
tween  the  silver  claws  of  a  slender  tongs. 
"  Will  you  take  sugar  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Thanks,  —  just  that  one  lump.  I  don't 
usually  take  it,  but  this  is  to  be  a  cup  of  friend- 


1/4  A    GENTLE 'M 'AN  OP   LEISURE. 

ship,  I  trust,  and  it  ought  to  be  sweetened 
symbolically.  Shan't  you  join  me?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ruth,  proceeding  to  make 
another  cup  of  tea  for  herself.  "  I  like  a  great 
deal  of  sugar,  so  my  excess  will  counteract 
your  deficiency." 

Her  way  of  saying  these  trifles  appeared  to 
Wainwright  wholly  irresistible.  The  light 
some  drollery  seemed  spiced  with  actual  wit 
because  of  the  fresh  smile  and  playful  felicity 
of  gesture  that  went  with  it.  A  little  later 
they  had  taken  two  opportunely  vacant  seats, 
and  were  sipping  their  tea  side  by  side. 

"  They  say  tea  is  unwholesome,"  said  Ruth. 
"  But  I  always  find  it  wonderfully  cheering. 
Don't  you  ?  " 

"  My  own  cup  certainly  cheers,"  said  Wain 
wright,  looking  at  her  with  jocose  grimness, 
"  but  I  am  afraid  that  it  rather  inebriates  as 
well." 


X. 


HILE  they  sat  thus  together,  Wain- 
wright  perceived  no  less  a  person  than 
Mrs.  Spencer  Vanderhoff,  standing  at 
some  distance  away,  in  conversation  with  two 
ladies.  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  had  to  his  mind  an 
increased  air  of  distinguished  elegance.  In 
her  bonnet  and  her  stately  street-draperies  she 
had  acquired  a  new  majesty.  Her  animated 
face,  where  time  had  left  so  mercifully  genial 
an  impress,  showed  her  age  more  as  the  slant 
afternoon  sun  smote  it  through  a  near  window 
than  when  viewed  under  the  mellow  flattery  oi 
chandeliers.  But  her  undoubted  beauty  gave 
this  gentle  ravage  a  kind  of  pleasant  pathos  ; 
there  was  something  tenderly  autumnal  about 
it,  like  one  or  two  russet  hints  in  a  green  leaf. 
"  I  am  not  so  great  a  stranger  here,  aftei 
all,"  said  Wainwright.  "There  is  anothei  per 


i;6  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

son  whom  I  know."     And  he  mentioned  Mrs. 
VanderhofFs  name. 

"Oh,  of  course,"  laughed  his  companion. 
'•Who  does  not  know  her*  Not  that  I  wish 
to  breathe  a  word  against  her,"  added  Ruth. 
"You  can't  think  how  I  admire  her,  —  or  how 
I  envy  her,  too.  She  so  thoroughly  enjoys  so 
ciety  ;  she  is  such  a  perfect  femme  du  monde. 
It  is  delightful  to  watch  her.  It  reminds  me 
of  a  person  taking  a  salt-water  swim.  Society 
refreshes  her,  makes  her  tingle.  She  posi 
tively  luxuriates  in  a  kettledrum  like  this 
She  once  told  me  that  it  was  her  habit  always 
to  come  early  on  these  occasions,  so  as  to  get 
a  chat  with  the  hostess." 

"  She  is  staying  rather  late  to-day,"  said 
Wainwright,  as  he  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  That  is  because  she  has  become  absorbed 
in  conversation  with  that  thin  little  lady. 
You  've  no  idea  how  stupid  the  thin  little  lady 
is  ;  but  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  has  the  art  of  draw 
ing  her  out." 

"  Which  will  probably  be  returned  to-mor 
row,"  said  Wainwright,  dryly.  "The  thin 
lady  will  draw  her  out,  —  in  the  family  carriage 
perhaps." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  I/? 

Ruth  burst  into  a  laugh,  full  of  gleeful  se 
crecy.  "Then  you  have  heard  of  ...  of  a 
certain  person's  peculiarities,"  she  said.  "Pray, 
has  she  yet  asked  any  service  of  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  requested  to  take  her  to  an  enter 
tainment  at  Mrs.  Cornelia  Bateson  Bangs's. 
Do  you  know  the  lady  ?  " 

Ruth  creased  her  forehead  archly.  "  I  be 
lieve  she  lectures,  or  something  in  that  way. 
Mrs.  Vanderhoff  knows  the  greatest  quantity 
of  people.  Everybody  interests  her.  But  you 
must  go  and  pay  her  your  respects.  It  will 
only  be  polite.  Remember  that  you  are  very 
conspicuous  this  afternoon,  and  very  much  in 
demand.  I  shall  be  thought  almost  uncivil  for 
monopolizing  you." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  don't  understand,"  said 
Wainwright,  with  a  puzzled  shake  of  the  head. 

"  Why,  so  few  gentlemen  ever  come  to  ket 
tledrums,  you  know.  They  are  asked,  but 
they  only  send  pasteboard  acknowledgments." 

Wainwright  let  his  glance  wander  through 
the  parted  folds  of  a  great  velvet  curtain.  In 
the  room  beyond  he  saw  Mrs.  Spring ;  she 
was  talking  to  three  gentlemen  at  once.  She 
tvas  apparently  going  through  some  panto- 

12 


If8  -A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

mimic  description  of  a  recent  experience  ; 
both  her  arms  were  raised  at  one  moment, 
with  gestures  that  doubtless  imitated  a  mu 
sician  playing  vociferously  upon  a  brass  in 
strument.  The  three  gentlemen  appeared 
deeply  amused  ;  they  bent  their  bodies  in 
laughter  during  the  performance  of  these 
jaunty  gymnastics. 

"  Your  sister  seems  to  have  considerable 
male  society  about  her  just  now,"  said  Wain- 
wright. 

"  All  gentlemen  like  Fanny,"  said  Ruth. 

Wainwright  leaned  a  little  nearer  to  his 
companion.  He  felt  emboldened  by  some 
thing  confident  and  candid  in  her  manner 
since  they  had  been  together  this  last  time. 
Moreover,  he  designed  to  break  the  ice,  if 
possible,  at  a  single  blow,  and  define  to  Ruth 
Cheever  just  how  he  wished  to  stand  toward 
her  throughout  possible  future  relations. 

"  I  do  not  like  your  sister,"  he  said.  lie 
emphasized  the  pronoun  with  strength,  and  he 
looked  at  her  very  steadily. 

"  You  should  not  tell  me  so  if  you  do  not," 
she  replied,  and  her  voice  was  low  and  some 
what  fluttered. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  179 

"  You  mean  that  it  is  not  good  taste  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  I  mean  that  it  is  not  good  taste." 

"And  yet  you  are  not  angry  with  me,"  he 
said.  His  manner  was  full  of  soft  assertion, 
but  it  was  extremely  respectful  besides.  "  You 
are  not  even  annoyed.  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ? "  she  asked, 
slightly  frowning,  he  could  not  guess  whether 
from  pique  or  perplexity. 

He  lifted  the  fragile  cup  from  which  he  had 
been  drinking,  peered  within  its  empty  recess 
for  a  moment,  and  smiled  very  brightly.  "  I 
read  it  here,  at  the  bottom  of  this  cup,  — our 
cup  of  friendship,  remember." 

Ruth  leaned  her  head  on  one  hand,  looking 
straight  down  at  the  table.  She  appeared  to 
muse  for  a  brief  while.  Then  she  suddenly 
raised  her  eyes,  and  spoke  with  low  speed. 

"  Fanny  left  mother  and  me  when  she  was  a 
mere  girl,  and  came  here  with  her  husband. 
Of  course  she  has  made  most  of  her  friends 
through  him.  I  don't  like  the  people  whom 
she  likes  ;  I  don't  like  the  things  that  she 
chooses  to  do." 

"  Both  her  friends  and  her  doings  seem 
rather  .  .  .  picturesque,"  said  Wainwright. 


ISO  A    GENTLFMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

deliberately   loitering    a  little   over   the    last 
word. 

"  Picturesque,"  repeated  Ruth,  with  an  into 
nation  of  bitterness.  "  Yes,  — that  is  precisely 
what  they  are.  The  clique  of  persons  who 
surround  my  sister  are,  for  the  most  part,  ig 
norant,  —  frightfully  ignorant.  They  never 
read  ;  they  never  think ;  they  have  a  hunger 
for  amusing  themselves,  and  that  is  about  all. 
They  are  perpetually  'getting  up'  things.  It 
is  either  a  dinner-party  in  a  fashionable  restau 
rant,  or  a  driving-party  on  an  English  drag,  or 
a  supper-party  with  a  german  afterward,  at 
which  they  all  romp  about  like  so  many  school 
children.  Occasionally  they  go  to  the  stran 
gest  places.  Yesterday  Fanny  lunched  with  a 
number  of  hilarious  inmates  at  Fulton  Market, 
in  a  common  little  eating-house,  where  the 
oysters  are  said  to  be  remarkably  good.  A 
few  nights  ago  she  was  one  of  a  party  that 
went  and  filled  two  boxes  at  a  big  third-rate 
theatre,  where  ladies  and  gentlemen  are  not 
supposed  to  find  anything  worth  hearing  or 
seeing.  Last  week  she  made  one  of  an 
other  group,  who  patronized  the  balcony 
regions  of  an  enormous  beer-garden,  off  some 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  l8l 

where  in  the  Bowery,  where  our  lower  classes 
listen  to  an  assemblage  of  inferior  German 
musicians  playing  amid  odors  of  bad  tobacco. 
They  call  this  kind  of  thing  a  '  lark,'  and  I  am 
sorry  to  tell  you  that  their  '  larks  '  are  exceed 
ingly  numerous.  Nearly  all  the  ladies  of  the 
set  are  married,  —  which  is  at  least  a  for 
tunate  circumstance.  But  they  are  tyrannic 
ally  cliquish.  They  have  a  prodigious  idea 
of  themselves.  With  an  absurd  sort  of  sar 
casm,  they  insist  upon  your  being  '  somebody  ' 
before  they  will  permit  you  to  pass  their 
charmed  limits." 

11  And  if  you  went  darting  about  in  this 
wild  fashion,"  said  Wainwright,  "  I  suppose 
your  sister  would  entirely  approve  of  you." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ruth  ;  "  that  is,  provided 
I  "  —  and  then  she  paused,  very  abruptly. 

"  Provided  you  married  to  please  her,"  said 
Wainwright. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she  asked,  quite 
sharply. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  looked  im 
penetrably  non-committal.  "  I  suppose  she 
would  make  your  approved  marriage,"  he  said, 
"  one  of  the  chief  reasons  for  extending  you 
gracious  treatment." 


1 82  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

They  looked  at  each  other  with  great  in- 
tentness  for  several  minutes.  It  occurred  to 
Wainvvright  that  his  face  was  being  scrutinized 
by  a  stare  of  the  most  pitiless  interrogation, 
and  suddenly  perceiving  the  ludicrous  side  of 
his  own  endeavor  to  appear  innocent,  he  broke 
into  irrepressible  laughter. 

Ruth  slowly  nodded,  with  an  expression  of 
such  solemn  discovery  that  it  increased  his 
mirth.  "  What  a  wretched  gossiping  world  it 
is  !  "  she  murmured. 

"Ah,  well,"  said  Wainwright,  as  his  laugh 
quieted,  "you  can't  expect  to  have  grandees 
laying  their  fortunes  at  your  feet  without  also 
having  the  world  gossip  about  it." 

She  was  coloring,  and  the  florid  progress  of 
her  blush  along  the  clear  curve  of  throat  and 
cheek  made  him  regret  that  it  should  be  so 
transient. 

"  I  have  kept  you  to  myself  quite  long 
enough,  I  fear,"  she  now  said,  rising,  and 
speaking  with  thorough  ease  of  manner  and 
\io  touch  of  chagrin.  "  I  see  that  Mrs*  Vander- 
tioff  is  giving  jealous  looks  in  our  direction." 

"Bother  Mrs.  Vanderhoff ! "  said  Wain- 
(vrio-ht,  with  a  covert  grimace,  rising  also. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  183 

At  this  point  a  suave,  precise  voice  said  a 
few  words  across  Ruth's  shoulder,  not  loud 
enough  for  her  companion  to  hear.  The  latter 
now  perceived  that  the  lean,  lofty  form  of  Mr. 
Beekman  Amsterdam  had  stolen  quite  near, 
just  as  Ruth  herself  was  turning  to  address 
that  gentleman.  He  held  an  eyeglass  in  the 
long,  white,  refined  fingers  of  one  hand.  He 
was  smiling,  and  you  almost  wondered  how  he 
could  do  so  and  still  retain  such  an  amount  of 
cheerless  sobriety  about  his  deep,  flat  upper 
lip,  which  seemed  stiffly  to  disapprove  of  the 
thin-edged  smile  beneath  it.  Wainwright 
drew  the  conclusion,  as  he  regarded  Mr.  Am 
sterdam,  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a 
man  more  perfectly  gentlemanly-looking  and 
yet  more  completely  unattractive.  He  had 
never  seen  stronger  outward  evidence  of  a 
leaden  and  dismal  personality.  It  seemed  im 
possible  to  connect  anything  like  a  passion 
with  one  who  gave  signs  of  possessing  so  slug 
gishly  regular  a  pulse. 

Ruth  soon  afterward  made  him  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Amsterdam,  who  courteously  inquired 
whether  he  would  be  among  the  guests,  that 
eveninq;,  at  Mrs.  Boden stein's  ball. 


1 84  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISUKE. 

Wainwright  stated  his  intention  of  going. 
"  Your  sister  has  been  kind  enough  to  remem 
ber  me,"  he  added.  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  the 
ball  will  be  one  of  great  elegance." 

"There  will  be  a  crowd,  —  a  dreadful  crowd," 
said  Mr.  Amsterdam,  giving  a  little  wave  of 
his  upheld  eyeglasses,  as  though  he  were  going 
to  put  them  on,  and  then  not  doing  so.  When 
ever  he  had  finished  a  sentence  you  felt  as 
if  something  had  been  noiselessly  closed  and 
a  key  turned  upon  it.  "  But  they  intend  to 
make  it  very  pretty,  I  believe.  ...  A  lot  of 
flowers,  you  know,  and  the  picture-gallery 
open,  of  course." 

"  There  will  be  a  gallery  of  living  pictures," 
said  Ruth ;  "  the  painted  ones  will  not  receive 
much  attention." 

Mr.  Amsterdam  looked  down  at  Ruth  ;  he 
had  to  look  down  at  nearly  everybody,  he  was 
so  tall.  "  I  am  sure  that  you  mean  to  offer 
the  former  a  contribution,"  he  said,  and  his 
lifeless  eye  faintly  kindled. 

Ruth  gave  a  slight  laugh.  "  Oh,  if  I  did," 
she  replied,  "  it  would  not  be  much  sought 
after;  it  would  not  have  a  gilded  frame." 
She  ended  her  words  in  a  careless,  random 
way,  turning  toward  Wainwright. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  185 

But  Mr.  Amsterdam  leaned  nearer  to  her. 
"  The  frame  could  not  raise  its  value,"  Wain- 
wright  heard  him  say,  in  swift  undertone. 

Ruth's  attention  was  now  claimed  by  a  small 
bevy  of  departing  ladies.  At  the  same  mo 
tnent  Wainwright  felt  a  touch  on  his  shoulder, 
and  looking  round  he  perceived  Mrs.  Spring. 

"  You  must  stay  and  dine  with  us,"  said  that 
lady.  "  Don't  attempt  to  refuse.  I  shan't  ex 
cuse  you  unless  you  've  a  previous  engagement. 
Now  look  me  right  straight  in  the  eyes  and 
say  whether  you  have  or  no." 

"Really,"  said  Wainwright,  "you  act  as  if  I 
were  prejudiced  against  dining  with  you.  This 
is  hardly  fair,  considering  that  I  now  encounter 
my  maiden  opportunity." 

Mrs.  Spring  had  fixed  her  little  black  eyes 
very  watchfully  on  his  face.  She  seemed  med 
itating  for  an  instant ;  then  she  started,  and 
came  to  herself,  as  it  were.  "  Oh,  I  suppose 
you  may  have  no  objection  to  dining  here,  but 
vou  Ve  taken  a  dislike  to  me,  for  all  that." 
She  nearly  closed  her  eyes,  smiled  with  firm- 
shut  lips,  and  slowly  moved  her  head  from  side 
to  side.  "I  am  sure  of  it;  you  need  n't  deny 
't.  I  don't  see  what  on  earth  is  the  matter." 


1 86  A    GENTLEMAN   OF  LEISURE. 

She  suddenly  gave  Wainwright  a  sharp  tap  on 
the  arm  with  her  fan.  "  We  must  have  a  talk 
about  it.  The  thing  will  never  do,  you  know, 
after  our  desperate  intimacy  in  Switzerland. 
Yes,  we  must  have  a  talk.  I  haven't  time 
now  ;  I  must  go  and  attend  to  people.  You  '11 
dine  with  us  at  seven  o'clock  ? " 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy,"  said  Wainwright. 

"Very  well.  After  dinner  you  can  chat  with 
my  sister  Ruth,  who  is  not  going  to  the  Boden 
steins'  ball,  I  believe.  I  shall  retire  and  make 
my  toilette,  and  you  shall  tell  me  how  I  look, 
a  little  later.  I  take  great  pride  in  my  new 
dress;  it  is  handsome  enough  to  be  gossiped 
about  in  the  newspapers.  The  newspapers  gos 
sip  about  everything,  nowadays  ;  but  they  so 
often  get  the  descriptions  of  dresses  all  wrong. 
If  they  make  a  mistake  about  my  trimmings  I 
think  I  shall  feel  like  publishing  a  corrective 
v,ard,  in  self-defense.  .  .  .  There,  good-by ! 
You'll  come  at  half  past  six,  sharp?  Don't 
forget." 

Mrs.  Spring  rustled  and  tinkled  away  from 
him,  with  short,  trotting  steps,  after  having 
given  him  another  fan-tap  on  the  arm. 

Wainwright  was  not  loath  to  accept  her  in 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  I  87 

Citation.  He  slipped  from  the  rooms,  a  little 
later,  went  to  his  hotel,  dressed  for  the  even 
ing,  and  re-arrived  at  Mrs.  Spring's  by  the 
time  that  she  had  specified.  He  found  the 
charming  little  basement-house  emptied  of  all 
its  gay  guests.  Ruth  was  in  the  reception- 
room  below  stairs  as  he  entered  this  apart 
ment.  It  struck  him  that  she  had  a  wearied 
and  worried  air,  though  she  smiled  on  meeting 
him  once  more. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  prepared  for  me,"  he 
said,  sitting  down  at  her  side  on  the  lounge 
where  she  was  already  seated. 

"  Yes.  Fanny  told  me  that  you  were  coming 
to  dine  with  us." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  the  ball  this  even- 


"  No.  I  have  been  graciously  excused  for 
another  night  ;  my  sister  has  let  me  off.  She 
is  so  absorbed  in  the  idea  of  having  a  particu 
larly  delightful  time  that  the  result  has  been  a 
mood  of  great  clemency." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Wainwright,  after  a  little 
pause,  "do  you  win  no  enjoyment  whatever 
from  society  ? " 

Ruth    shook    her   head,    in    slow    negative. 


1 88  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  as  slowly,  "  it  is  all  very 
tame  to  me.  I  don't  deny  that  the  fault  is  in 
myself.  I  don't  deny  that  my  vision  is  per 
haps  crooked,  jaundiced,  unfair.  But  I  see 
nothing  except  pretension,  frivolity  and  man 
nerism  among  the  people  who  make  up  what 
is  called  society.  I  very  often  like  the  way  in 
which  they  say  and  do  things,  but  I  grow  sadly 
tired  of  the  vacant,  aimless  things  that  they  say 
and  do." 

"You  told  me  the  first  night  I  met  you  that 
you  were  by  no  means  a  reformer,"  said  Wain- 
wright ;  "and  yet  you  rarely  speak  of  youi  con 
temporaries,  of  the  people  among  whom  fate 
has  thrown  you,  without  making  me  fancy  that 
you  must  have  some  very  stringent  theories  of 
social  reform." 

She  laughed  as  he  ended,  but  the  laugh 
sounded  to  him  more  like  a  sigh.  She  seemed 
to  muse  for  a  moment,  and  then  looked  up 
quickly  into  his  face  with  the  eyes  whose  dark 
richness  of  tint  had  already  begun  to  haunt  his 
memory  when  he  was  away  from  her. 

"  I  am  not  a  reformer,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
no  distinct  theories,  though  a  few  decided  in 
stincts.  I  am  only  a  non-conformist,  —  and 
sometimes,  I  fear,  rather  an  ill-tempered  one." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEiSURE.  189 

Just  then  Mrs.  Spring  entered  the  room. 
She  still  wore  the  same  noticeable  costume 
in  which  Wainwright  had  last  seen  her.  It 
was  a  commingling  of  silks,  each  different 
in  hue ;  it  produced  a  tasteful,  harlequin-like 
effect,  striking,  though  perhaps  too  violent. 
Wainwright  could  not  resist  the  fancy  of  put 
ting  little  visionary  bells  along  the  edges  of 
each  silken  segment,  and  having  these  jingle 
instead  of  her  jewelry  whenever  his  hostess 
moved,  after  the  fashion  of  a  genuine  Folly. 

Mrs.  Spring  looked  very  much  out  of  humor. 
It  was  not  until  Wainwright  was  seated  at  the 
dinner-table  with  herself,  Ruth  and  Miss  Lydia, 
that  the  cause  of  her  discontent  transpired. 
The  guest  had  already  perceived  that  she  was 
distressed,  and  since  he  had  noticed  Tovvn- 
send's  absence  during  the  afternoon,  and  now 
saw  a  vacant  place  opposite  Mrs.  Spring,  the 
probable  cause  of  this  irritated  mood  suggested 
itself  to  him. 

"  I  am  having  my  nerves  tried  in  a  most 
dreadful  way,"  Mrs.  Spring  suddenly  declared. 
"  I  am  in  a  frightfully  disturbed  state  of  mind." 

"  I  hope  your  husband  is  not  ill,"  said  Wain 
wright,  tentatively. 


I QO  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Mrs  Spring  gave  a  laugh.  "  Townsend  ? 
Dear  me,  no  !  He  is  as  well  as  ever,  I  believe. 
I  've  not  an  idea  where  he  is.  We  're  very 
good  friends,  Townsend  and  I,  but  it  can't  be 
said  that  our  acquaintance  has  yet  ripened  into 
intimacy." 

As  usual  with  the  speaker  of  these  words, 
their  bad  taste  was  not  glaringly  manifest,  from 
the  peculiar  trick  of  chic  that  accompanied 
their  utterance.  But  Wainwright  saw  a  pained 
look  cross  Ruth's  face  before  her  sister  had 
finished,  while  Miss  Lydia  burst  into  a  short, 
bubbling  laugh  immediately  afterward. 

"  No,  indeed,"  continued  Mrs.  Spring,  letting 
her  fork  hover  over  a  morsel  of  fish,  which  was 
cooked,  like  every  other  detail  of  the  present 
repast,  with  savory  skill.  "  My  trouble  con 
cerns  the  gross  treachery  of  my  dressmaker. 
I  foolishly  allowed  her  to  delay  sending  home 
my  dress  for  the  Bodensteins'  ball  until  the  last 
moment.  I  have  dispatched  her  three  mes 
sages  to-day,  and  the  dress  is  n't  home  yet.  I 
am  growing  fearfully  anxious  about  it.  I  can't 
go  if  it  does  n't  come,  and  I  would  n't  miss 
that  ball  for  anything  in  the  world.  I  abom 
inate  the  Bodensleins  ;  they  are  such  horric 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  191 

snobs  that  they  've  always  excluded  me  from 
their  parties  before."  Here  Mrs.  Spring  shot 
a  rapid  look  toward  her  sister.  "  I  don't  mind 
telling  you,  Mr.  Wainwright,"  she  continued, 
"that  Ruth's  friend,  Mr.  Amsterdam,  got  us 
invitations  for  to-night.  Half  the  people  who 
meet  me  there  will  suspect  the  truth,  so  I 
have  determined  to  forestall  impertinent  hints 
and  allusions.  They  say  the  house  is  a  perfect 
palace,  and  I  've  a  strong  curiosity  to  see  it. 
If  that  exasperating  Ludovici  plays  me  false,  I 
shall  revenge  myself  in  some  terrible  way, — 
I  'm  sure  I  shall." 

"Pshaw,  Fanny!"  here  exclaimed  Miss 
Lydia,  "you  've  a  lot  of  other  clothes  to  choose 
from.  I  would  n't  care  a  pin  if  I  were  you." 

"  Lyddy,  don't  be  absurd  !"  retorted  her  sis 
ter-in-law.  "  I  have  simply  nothing  that-'s 
fresh,  and  you  know  it.  That  atrocious  green 
and  yellow  thing  that  Worth  sent  me  over 
makes  me  look  an  utter  fright.  I  shall  never 
trust  Worth  again.  He  has  lost  all  conscience. 
He  seems  to  think  that  anything  is  good  enough 
for  America.  .  .  .  There  's  the  bell.  Hurry, 
Ellen,  and  see  who  it  is." 

This  last  remark  was  addressed  with  a  pro- 


1 92  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

nounced  gesticulation  to  the  white-capped  serv 
ant  in  waiting,  who  immediately  left  the  room. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  too  agitated  even  to  care 
tor  sympathy,"  said  Wainwright,  choosing  this 
mild  sarcasm  rather  at  random. 

"  You  don't  say  that  as  if  you  had  much  sym 
pathy  to  offer,"  returned  Mrs.  Spring,  some 
what  tartly.  She  raised  one  finger  and  shook 
it  at  Wainwright.  "  I  can't  think  what  has  got 
into  you  of  late.  Somebody  has  been  setting 
you  against  me,  I  suspect.  I  hope  it 's  not 
Ruth,  there.  We  must  have  that  little  talk  I 
spoke  of,  and  find  out." 

It  was  impossible  to  tell  whether  the  crisp- 
ness  that  went  with  these  words  had  its  origin 
in  real  or  mock  anger.  But  the  reckless  fling 
at  Ruth  made  Wainwright  feel  a  warmth  in 
his  cheek,  and  sent  to  his  lips  a  retort  that 
wore  an  arrow-tip. 

"  I  should  have  to  forego  the  pleasure  of  that 
talk,"  he  said,  "  if  it  were  to  be  a  question  of 
hearing  your  sister  unjustly  accused." 

Ruth  turned  toward  him  quickly  ;  he  saw 
remonstrance  in  her  look.  Just  then  the  serv 
ant  returned,  bearing  a  note. 

"  Not  my  dress  ! "  almost  wailed  Mrs.  Spring 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  193 

snatching  the  note  from  her  who  now  proffered 
it.  She  glanced  rapidly  at  the  superscription. 
"  Good  heavens  !  *'  she  began  to  mutter,  break 
ing  open  the  envelope  with  fingers  that  actu 
ally  trembled.  "  Suppose  she  has  written  to 
say  that  my  ball-dress  .  .  is"  .  .  . 

This  sentence  died  away  unfinished.  Mrs. 
Spring  was  staring  down  at  the  opened  note. 
She  had  grown  pale,  and  she  looked  wofully 
bewildered.  The  next  instant  she  rose  from 
the  table. 

"  Excuse  me,"  she  said,  addressing  no  one  in 
particular;  "I  am  unexpectedly  called  away  — 
let  dinner  proceed  —  I  may  return  before  des 
sert." 

She  passed  with  haste  from  the  room.  Her 
words  had  been  flurried,  and  their  tone  was  al 
most  husky. 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  think  is  the  mat 
ter?"  said  Lyclia,  looking  at  Ruth  with  a  wide, 
Childish  stare. 

"  I  have  no  idea,"  said  Ruth,  quietly. 

The  dinner  did   proceed,  and  without  Mrs. 

Spring.     That  lady  failed  to  appear  at  dessert, 

and  Lydia  rose  before  the  coffee  was  served, 

declaring  that  she  must  go  up-stairs  and  begin 

13 


194  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

her  toilette  for  the  ball.  She  put  her  head  on 
one  side  and  clasped  her  plump  hands  together, 
after  she  had  risen. 

"  You  have  n't  any  idea  how  stunning  I  'm 
going  to  look,"  she  said  to  Wainwright,  paus 
ing  beside  her  vacated  chair.  "  I  'm  going  to 
wear  black  tulle  trimmed  with  little  sun 
flowers.  Only  wait  till  you  see  me." 

"  I  shall  certainly  wait,"  said  Wainwright, 
who  had  also  risen,  "provided  Miss  Cheever 
will  allow  of  my  remaining  so  long." 

"  Oh,  Ruth  will  let  you  stay  !  "  laughed  Lydia. 
She  went  as  far  as  the  door-way  with  a  danc 
ing  step,  and  then  abruptly  turned,  just  as  she 
had  reached  its  threshold.  She  was  bad  style, 
as  the  term  runs  ;  her  voice  and  manner  were 
inelegant,  and  she  managed  the  motions  of  her 
full-moulded  figure  with  a  sad  want  of  repose. 
But  she  was  excessively  pretty,  in  spite  of  this 
bouncing  sort  of  abandonment,  and  you  felt  a 
sense  of  playful  sincerity  when  you  looked  well 
?t  her  comely,  fresh-tinted  countenance. 

"  Ruth  will  be  glad  to  talk  to  you  for  ever 
so  long,  I  know,"  she  said,  with  another  glance 
at  Wainwright,  full  of  roguish  piquancy.  "  I  'm 
sure  she  will.  She  don't  like  most  people,  but 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE  IQ5 

I  '11  bet  anything  she  likes  talking  to  you  aw 
fully."  Lydia  then  uttered  a  high  trill  of  laugh- 
tei,  and  immediately  made  a  rapid  exit. 

Wainwright  sat  down  again.  The  servant 
was  just  then  handing  him  his  coffee.  He 
bent  over  the  fragrant  cup,  not  looking  a^ 
Ruth,  who  sat  next  him,  but  saying  with  pleas 
ant  composure,  "Miss  Spring  has  a  remark 
able  fund  of  good  spirits." 

"  Lyddy  is  a  very  nice  girl,"  was  the  prompt 
answer.  "  I  am  very  fond  of  her." 

The  servant  had  left  them  ;  Ruth  had  also 
got  her  cup  of  coffee,  and  was  stirring  it  with 
a  tiny  silver  spoon.  The  illumined  table  stood 
richly  forth  from  the  dark  surrounding  ap 
pointments  of  the  room.  A  vase  of  big  golden 
roses  and  an  tpergne  of  costly  fruit  lifted  their 
soft  pomp  of  color  above  the  crystal  array  of 
glasses.  The  very  luxury  of  the  scene  brought 
to  Wainwright  a  sudden  distress,  as  he  turned 
and  watched  for  a  moment  the  light  of  a  chan 
delier  just  overhead  steal  silky  glimmers  from 
Ruth's  waved  hair.  It  seemed  pitiable  indeed 
that  this  girl,  in  whom  he  felt  there  lay  so 
much  that  was  fine  and  true,  should  thus  be 
environed  by  the  chance  wealth  of  a  gambling 


196  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

adventurer.  A  grim  thought  entered  the  young 
man's  head  as  be  watched  Ruth:  he  wondered 
whether  the  little  spoon  with  which  she  stirred 
her  coffee  had  ever  been  paid  for. 

"  Miss  Lydia  seems  to  like  you  in  return," 

he  said. 

"  Oh,  we  are  the  best  of  friends,"  answered 
Ruth,  quickly.     "  I  only  wish  that  I  "  She 

paused,  biting  her  lip. 

"  Well,"  said  Wainwright,  "  what  is  it  ?" 
Ruth  spoke  very  seriously  and  slowly.  "  I 
don't  mind  telling  you,"  she  began.  "Why 
should  I?  Everybody  knows  that  Lyddy  is 
receiving  the  most  devoted  attentions  from  a 
married  man." 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  something  of  the  sort." 
"  Of  course  you  have  heard.  If  Lyddy 
were  less  responsible,  less  of  an  overgrown 
child,  I  should  not  care  so  much.  I  don't 
mean  that  she  is  of  such  tender  years  ;  it  is 
her  mind  ;  mentally,  she  has  always  been,  and 
will  always  remain,  a  child.  You  've  no  idea 
what  a  guileless,  innocent  nature  she  hides 
underneath  all  that  slangy  crudity." 

"And  have  you  never  warned  her  of   the 
peril  in  which  she  stands  ?  " 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  1 97 

Ruth  shook  her  head  regretfully.  "What 
are  my  warnings  worth  ?  "  she  replied,  in 
placid  lamentation.  "  Fanny  is  forever  turning 
them  to  ridicule." 

Wainwright  seemed  to  be  reflecting.  •"  I 
don't  understand,"  he  at  length  said.  "  Your 
sister  is  careful  enough  in  her  own  conduct. 
She  leaves  a  good  margin  between  herself  and 
the  edge  of  any  destructive  precipice." 

"  Always,"  assented  Ruth,  decisively.  "  She, 
who  is  so  guarded  and  deliberate  in  all  matters 
where  personal  discretion  becomes  needful, 
shows  obtuse  folly  in  the  laxity  allowed  to  this 
poor  feather-headed  protegee.  That  is  so  often 
true  of  shrewd  people  ;  they  surprise  us  with 
a  stupidity  when  we  least  expect  it.  The  day 
of  wrath  will  come  suddenly  for  poor  Lyddy. 
My  sister  will  wake  to  a  sense  of  being  so 
cially  injured.  Stern  orders  will  go  forth." 
Ruth  lowered  her  voice,  and  it  was  unsteady, 
as  though  with  feeling,  while  she  spoke  the 
next  words.  "  Then  I  dread  the  result.  The 
bridle  has  lain  loose  so  long  on  Lyddy's  neck 
And  Mr.  Abernethy  is  a  man  of  no  principle. 
His  record  is  a  dark  one  ;  he  is  not  well  re 
ceived  by  people  of  position,  —  he  is  simply 


198  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

tolerated.  They  are  waiting  for  his  next  esca 
pade,  and  then,  in  spite  of  high  connections, 
he  will  be  mercilessly  dropped.  At  least  'I 
have  heard  all  this.  I  care  nothing  about  it, 
however  ;  I  think  only  of  that  poor  reckless 
child." 

"  Whom  you  want  very  much  to  help,"  said 
Wainwright,  looking  at  her  with  a  smile  full 
of  sympathetic  concern. 

"  I  do  !  "  exclaimed  Ruth.  She  spoke  with 
great  fervor,  and  momentarily  laid  a  hand  on 
his  arm.  Her  tones  had  a  lovely  plaintive- 
ness  ;  a  new  glow  broke  from  her  sweet  eyes. 
"  I  lie  awake  at  night,  thinking  of  some  way 
to  drag  that  unhappy  child  backward  from  her 
own  danger." 

"  Why  do  you  not  speak  with  her  ?  She 
likes  you  ;  she  would  listen." 

"  You  are  right.  But  Fanny  would  accuse 
me  of  prudish  interference."  Her  voice  trem 
bled  perceptibly  now.  "  I  have  enough  to  con 
tend  with  from  Fanny,  as  it  is.  You  don't 
know  all."  She  averted  her  eyes  from  his 
own  fixed,  interested  look.  "  There  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  know.  I  beg  you  will 
ask  no  more, — for  the  present."  She  rose 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  199 

speaking  in  much  lighter  tones.  "  Come,  let 
us  go  into  the  other  room.  You  may  smoke 
there,  if  you  choose  ;  nobody  will  mind." 

They  passed  from  the  dining-room,  but  had 
scarcely  reached  the  little  apartment  near  at 
hand,  where  Wainwright  had  first  met  her, 
when  a  servant  appeared,  speaking  a  few  words 
to  Ruth  in  a  low  voice. 

"  My  sister  has  been  out  since  we  saw  her," 
she  now  said,  rather  bewilderedly,  "  has  re 
turned  again,  and  has  sent  me  a  message  that 
she  wishes  to  see  me  at  once  on  some  important 
matter.  I  can't  imagine  what  it  is  ;  perhaps 
it  concerns  that  mysterious  note."  .  .  .  Ruth 
seemed  almost  addressing  her  own  thoughts, 
at  this  point.  "  Pray,  excuse  me  for  a  little 
while,  and  make  yourself  comfortable  till  I 
return." 

"  Curiosity  always  makes  me  uncomfort 
able,"  said  Wainwright,  laughing,  as  she  left 
ijhe  room.  "  You  have  roused  mine,  though  I 
can't  say  that  is  my  chief  reason  for  wishing 
you  will  not  be  long  away." 

He  seated  himself,  after  she  had  gone,  in 
one  of  the  deep,  sumptuous  arm-chairs.  The 
soft  power  of  her  personality  had  left  echoes 


2OO  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

behind,  that  made  the  silence  gently  revei 
berant  She  seemed  still  to  be  present  in  a 
more  ethereal  way,  so  unexpected  had  been  hex 
withdrawal.  Wainwright  leaned  his  head  on 
one  hand,  shading  his  eyes  ;  he  remained  thus 
for  some  little  time.  He  was  having  his  first 
experience  of  a  passion.  He  might  not  have 
admitted  this  there  and  then;  but  he  admitted 
that  he  was  profoundly  sorry  for  Ruth  Cheever. 
The  girl's  position  was  very  clear  to  him. 
She  had  spoken  with  self-forgetting  ardor  of 
Lycldy's  danger.  To  him  her  own  appeared 
sharply  vivid.  The  boat  in  which  she  sailed 
was  going  to  pieces  ;  that  very  day  he  had 
heard  new  rumors  concerning  Townsend 
Spring's  financial  ills.  Fate  had  made  one  of 
its  worst  discords  in  bringing  this  pure,  high- 
strung  creature  so  near  haphazard  morality 
and  callous  worldliness,  but  now  a  black  stroke 
of  real  tragedy  was  in  the  one  chance  of  es 
cape  that  lay  before  her.  That  chance  was  to 
marry  Beekman  Amsterdam.  The  imagina 
tion  sometimes  puts  things  very  picturesquely 
to  us  when  it  acts  under  command  of  the  emo 
tions,  and  it  would  not  be  straying  far  from 
fact  to  say  that  Ruth  was  now  imaged  in 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2OI 

Wainwright's  mind  against  a  background  of 
lurid  disaster,  where  Mr.  Amsterdam's  un 
pleasantly  tall  figure  loomed  with  spectral 
sharpness. 

His  rather  doleful  reverie  was  ended  in  the 
most  unforeseen  way.  He  heard  a  sound  ci 
broken  voices  in  the  hall  outside,  —  two  fem 
inine  voices,  that  seemed  to  clash  with  each 
other  in  excited  dispute,  yet  were  not  raised 
much  above  a  whisper.  Presently,  having  risen 
and  given  close  heed  to  the  sounds,  he  detected 
one  or  two  sentences,  and  was  nearly  sure 
that  he  recognized  both  voices  as  well. 

"  You  must  not  do  it  !  "  said  the  voice  which 
seemed  to  him  Ruth  Cheever's. 

"  I  shall !  "  replied  that  which  he  thought  to 
be  Mrs.  Spring's.  "  You  've  no  right  to  try 
to  prevent  me.  What  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  " 

"  You  made  it  my  business.  You  consulted 
me  about  it." 

"  I  'm  sorry  I  did.     Let  me  pass,  I  say,  - 
how  do  you   dare    act    so    to  me   in  my  own 
house!" 

"  I  beg  of  you  —  come  up-statrs  for  a  few 
minutes —  I  have  more  to  say  to  you  —  Fanny 
—  please  do  —  I  "  — 


202  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

These  latter  words  were  spoken  in  loud,  im 
ploring  appeal.  Wainwright  had  no  longer 
the  least  doubt  who  spoke  them.  The  next 
instant  Mrs.  Spring  came  hastily  into  the 
room.  Her  face  had  two  deep  spots  of  color. 
She  never  expressed  the  idea  of  repose,  even 
when  most  placid.  But  now  there  was  some 
thing  electric  about  her ;  she  looked  as  if 
there  would  be  a  little  spark  and  a  snap  if  you 
touched  her.  For  a  moment  she  fixed  her 
small,  glittering  eyes  on  Wainwright's  face. 
Then  she  went  back  to  the  half-closed  door  by 
which  she  had  entered,  and  closed  it  with  a 
slam.  After  that  she  came  slowly  forward 
again.  She  had  put  both  hands  behind  her 
back,  clasping  them  there,  and  had  drooped  her 
head.  When  she  had  got  quite  near  to  Wun. 
wright,  she  raised  her  head,  and  he  saw  that 
tears  were  falling  from  her  eyes. 

"  I   have  a  great  favor  to  ask  of  you,"  $he 
said. 


XL 

AINWRIGHT  was  silent  for  a  short 
time  ;  possibly  surprise  kept  him  so. 
"  What  is  your  favor,  Mrs.  Spring  ? " 
he  then  questioned. 

"  How  cold  your  manner  is  !  "  she  cried  im 
petuously.  She  threw  herself  into  a  chair,  and 
covered  her  face  for  an  instant  with  both 
hands.  Wainwright  did  not  seat  himself. 
He  rested  an  arm  on  the  mantel  near  which 
he  was  standing,  and  calmly  watched  her. 

Mrs.  Spring  uncovered  her  face.  As  she 
did  so  he  spoke.  Her  tears  had  somehow  not 
touched  him.  He  felt  extremely  cold  toward 
Ver.  "  I  am  sorry  if  my  manner  displeases 
vou,"  he  said.  "  I  have  only  to  repeat  my 
former  question." 

Mrs.  Spring  drew  out  her  handkerchief,  and 
oegan  to  dry  her  tears.  She  seemed  nerving 
herself  to  be  composed. 


2O4 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 


"  This  is  my  favor,"  she  presently  said,  with 
headlong  volubility:  "  I  want  you  to  lend  me 
scnie  money,  —  a  large  amount."  Then  she 
named  the  sum  that  she  required.  It  was  in 
deed  large. 

Wainwright  turned  a  shade  paler.  He  was 
thinking  of  Ruth,  and  what  a  wound  must 
have  been  dealt  her  pride. 

Mrs.  Spring  did  not  wait  for  him  to  reply. 
She  rose  again,  and  began  to  speak,  rapidly 
and  agitatedly  :  — 

"  I  know  you  will  think  my  request  more 
than  strange.  But  my  dressmaker,  that  hoiri- 
ble  Ludovici,  has  just  served  me  the  shabbiest 
of  tricks.  I  had  an  account  with  her  ;  it  has 
been  running  along  for  several  months.  Of 
course  it  was  to  have  been  paid.  But  she  has 
heard  some  absurd  story  of  Townsend  being 
in  difficulty,  and  now,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  the 
artful  wretch  springs  a  trap  upon  me.  She 
refuses  to  send  my  dress  for  the  Bodensteins 
to-night  until  I  pay  her  every  penny  of  her 
bill.  Naturally  I  can't  get  the  amount  at  such 
short  notice."  Here  Mrs.  Spring  paused,  evi 
dently  controlling  a  new  rush  of  tears.  "True, 
t  might  ask  some  one  else  to  loan  me  the 


A    GENTLEMAN-  OF  LEISURE.  205 

money,"  she  went  on,  "  but  you  chanced  to  be 
here  in  the  house,  and  —  and — well,  I  don't 
feel  quite  so  much  shame  in  coming  to  you  as 
—  as  I  would  in  making  such  a  horrid  expost 
before  anybody  of  my  own  set,  who  would  bruit 
the  affair  all  over  town  to-morrow.  I  know- 
how  good-hearted  you  are,  Clinton  Wain- 
wright,  and  I  —  I  faithfully  promise  that  the 
money  shall  be  returned  as  soon  " 

The  opening  of  the  door  which  Mrs.  Spring 
had  recently  closed,  cut  short  her  further  words. 
Ruth  had  entered  the  room.  She  was  very 
pale  ;  she  looked  straight  at  Wainwright,  and 
immediately  spoke. 

"I  must  beg  of  you,"  she  said,  "not  to 
grant  what  my  sister  asks." 

A  sort  of  white  fury  dispelled  Mrs.  Spring's 
gathering  tears.  She  stared  at  Ruth  for  a  few 
seconds,  with  a  curling  lip. 

"  You  are  making  yourself  ridiculous,"  she 
said,  and  gave  a  quick,  hoarse  laugh. 

"  I  would  rather  be  that  than  dishonest,"  re 
plied  Ruth.  She  appeared  exceedingly  tranquil ; 
her  colorless  face  alone  betrayed  her  feeling. 

Mrs.  Spring  stamped  her  foot.  Even  this 
act  was  without  the  vulgarity  of  mere  ordinary 


206  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

rage ;  it  had  an  audacious  grace  of  its  own  , 
you  might  have  thought  it  only  picturesque 
in  this  woman,  while  in  almost  any  other  you 
would  have  thought  it  pitiably  out  of  taste. 

"How  dare  you  insult  me!"  she  said  to 
Ruth.  "  You  shall  not  remain  in  my  house 
another  day.  I  don't  care  where  you  go ;  you 
shan't  live  with  me  and  call  me  dishonest." 

"  You  have  not  the  money  to  repay  this  loan 
which  you  ask  of  Mr.  Wainwright,"  said  Ruth, 
still  perfectly  calm.  "  It  is  dishonest,  there 
fore,  to  borrow  from  him." 

Mrs.  Spring  measured  her  sister  with  a 
scornful  look.  She  turned  toward  Wain 
wright,  while  she  pointed  to  Ruth.  Her  voice 
had  the  ring  of  desperation. 

"  You  have  known  me  much  better  than  you 
have  ever  known  her  !  "  she  cried.  "  Believe 
her  if  you  choose,  —  but  I  don't  think  you 
will.  I  said  she  had  tried  to  set  you  against 
me,  and  I  meant  it.  She  has  always  opposed 
and  defied  me.  She  owes  me  everything,  —  I 
took  her  from  a  country  village,  and  showered 
advantages  on  her.  But  she  has  always  hated 
me  ;  there  was  never  so  unnatural  a  sister  ! 
Even  in  the  matter  of  marriage  she  has  prc- 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2O/ 

ferred  to  injure  herself  rather  than  gratify 
me." 

"That  does  not  concern  the  present  affair," 
broke  in  Ruth,  with  weary  bitterness,  as 
though  brought  to  face  an  old  detested  accu 
sation. 

The  words  seemed  only  to  feed  her  sister's 
wrath.  "  I  might  not  be  as  wretchedly  em 
barrassed  as  I  am,"  she  exclaimed,  "if  you  had 
not  behaved  with  such  cruel  stubbornness. 
You  would  marry  Beekman  Amsterdam  to 
morrow  if  you  thought  it  would  prove  of  no 
benefit  to  me  !  " 

Wainwright's  eyes  met  Ruth's  for  an  in 
stant.  "  I  am  very  glad  that  your  sister  did 
not  marry  Mr.  Amsterdam,"  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Spring,  in  tones  as  polite  as  they  were  neu 
trally  inexpressive.  "  If  she  had  done  so  I 
could  not  have  the  pleasure  of  accommodating 
you  this  evening." 

"Do  you  mean  that  —  you  will — lend  me 
the  money  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Spring,  moving  a 
step  or  two  nearer  Wainwright,  with  some 
thing  as  eager  as  greed  in  her  little  black 
eyes. 

"  I  will  lend  it  to  you  if  I  can  procure  it  at 
his  hour,"  he  said  ;  "  and  I  think  I  can." 


208  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Mrs.  Spring  shot  a  look  of  triumph  toward 
Ruth. 

"  My  sister  cannot  return  you  the  money," 
said  the  latter,  with  great  firmness.  "  I  feel 
it  my  duty  to  tell  you  this." 

Mrs.  Spring  burst  into  a  high,  nervous 
laugh.  Her  excitement  seemed  almost  to  have 
reached  the  bounds  of  hysteria.  She  hurried 
up  to  Wainwright  and  caught  his  hand  between 
both  her  own. 

" Don't  mind  what  that  sly,  malicious  creat- 
ui  e  says  !  "  she  burst  forth.  "  You  are  gener 
ous  and  a  gentleman.  I  knew  you  would  do 
it,  I  was  in  such  frightful  distress.  You  are  so 
kind  and  good  to  offer  me  help  !  " 

Wainwright  looked  steadily  into  her  up 
turned  face.  "  I  am  helping  you  in  no  sub 
stantial  way,"  he  said.  "  Do  not  suppose  that 
I  fail  to  understand  this.  I  am  helping  you  to 
indulge  a  whim,  a  caprice,  — nothing  more." 

"  You  are  giving  her  what  she  cannot  re- 
*urn,"  broke  in  Ruth,  at  this  point.  "  Her  hus 
band  has  sustained  severe  losses  of  late.  It 
is  more  than  doubtful  if  he  ever  recovers  him 
self." 

Ruth   spoke  these  words  with  a  composure 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  209 

that  was  almost  terrible.  To  Wainwright  she 
seemed  a  sort  of  personified  Conscience,  lift 
ing  itself  in  serene  protest  against  the  falsity 
and  pretension  that  surrounded  her.  He  felt 
that  she  spoke  because  she  must  speak,  and 
he  knew  that  in  speaking  she  suffered  a  deadly 
mortification. 

As  he  looked  at  her  his  heart  throbbed 
faster.  He  perfectly  understood  her  motive  ; 
he  clearly  realized  the  noble  and  womanly  im 
pulse  that  swayed  her  conduct.  More  than 
this,  he  saw,  with  intuitive  retrospect,  how 
she  had  suffered  and  struggled. 

He  crossed  the  room  with  speed,  reaching 
her  side.  Then  he  spoke  to  her,  in  words  too 
low  even  for  Mrs.  Spring's  alert  ears  to  over 
hear.  He  hardly  knew  what  exact  purpose 
stirred  him,  —  why  he  had  chosen  the  course 
which  indeed  seemed  to  have  set  itself  before 
him  without  any  intervention  of  choice. 

"  Leave  it  all  to  me,"  he  whispered.  "  I  beg 
that  you  will  say  no  more.  I  comprehend 
thoroughly." 

After  this    he  receded    several    paces  from 
Ruth,  again  turning  toward  Mrs.  Spring.     The 
latter  wore  a  frown  of  bewilderment,  but  her 
14 


210  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

anger  had  not  abated,  as  her  hands,  tightly 
clenched  together,  showed  with  distinct  effect. 

"  Oh,  she  has  persuaded  you  to  refuse  !  "  ex 
claimed  Ruth's  sister.  "Her  insolence,  her 
falsehood,  has  prevailed  with  you  !  " 

Wainwright  took  out  his  watch.  "  I  will 
endeavor  to  return  in  less  than  an  hour,"  he 
said  to  Mrs.  Spring.  "  Will  you  let  me  have 
the  address  of  this  person,  —  the  dressmaker  ? " 

Mrs.  Spring  gave  a  start.  "  I  have  not  been 
disappointed  in  you  ! "  she  once  more  cried. 
"  You  are  my  friend,  after  all."  Then  she 
told  Wainwright  the  required  address. 

"  I  think  you  can  trust  to  me,"  he  said,  mov 
ing  toward  the  door.  "  I  promise  to  do  all  I 
can  for  you."  He  put  out  his  hand  involun 
tarily  toward  Ruth,  as  he  passed  her.  She 
gave  him  her  own  hand.  It  was  cold  as  mar 
ble. 

Immediately  afterward  he  left  the  room.  A 
little  later  he  had  left  the  house  also. 


XII. 

]N  less  than  an  hour  Wainwright  re 
turned.  As  he  entered  the  reception- 
room  he  saw  Ruth  seated  there,  be 
side  a  table  on  which  a  lamp  was  burning 
under  a  rose-colored  shade.  She  did  not  rise 
as  he  appeared  ;  her  hands  were  crossed  in 
her  lap  ;  her  eyes,  full  of  melancholy  darkness, 
slowly  lifted  themselves  to  his  own.  As  he 
drew  nearer  he  perceived  that  her  pallor  was 
still  the  same,  though  the  lamplight  had  de 
ceptively  tinted  it.  He  sat  down  at  her  side. 

"  Were  you  expecting  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"You  said  that  you  would  return,"  she  re 
plied. 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  Your  sister  has  received  the 
dress  by  this  time,  has  she  not  ?  " 

"  It  came  about  ten  minutes  ago."  A  very 
sad  little  laugh  here  left  Ruth.  "  You  made 


212  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

quick  work  of  the  affair.  Expedition  in  such 
unpleasant:  matters  ought  to  be  the  preferable 
course." 

"  It  was  not  so  very  unpleasant.  I  had 
scarcely  any  trouble  to  make  Madame  Lu- 
dovici  accept  my  cheque.  She  seemed  to 
know  me,  —  to  have  heard  of  me,  or  some 
thing." 

"  I  don't  at  all  doubt  that  she  knew  you  by 
sight,"    said    Ruth,    absently,    as    though    not 
heeding  her  own  words.     "  She  drives  in  great 
state,  goes  to  the  opera  and  the  theatres,  and 
sometimes,  when  permitted,  peers  into  door 
ways    and    over   banisters  at    entertainments. 
She  is  a  most  frightful  snob,  and  is  always  try 
ing  to  have  the  notabilities  pointed  out  to  her." 
"Perhaps  she  thinks  me  a  notability,"  said 
Wainwright,    laughing.      "  That    may  account 
for  my  smooth  sailing  into  her  good  graces." 
He  somehow  felt  that,  conversationally,  there 
was   frost    in    the    air.     He    saw  that    Ruth's 
manner    was    preoccupied     and    despondent. 
Moved  by  a  sudden  access  of  feeling,  he  leaned 
Coward  her,  and  placed  his  hand  on  the  arm  of 
her  chair. 

"  I  hope  all  your  distress  is  now  over,"  he 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2  I  3 

said,  with  much  tenderness.  "  It  is  needless 
for  me  to  assure  you  of  my  entire  silence. 
What  your  sister  said  was  atrocious.  I  think 
that  you  were  wholly  right  ;  I  honor  you  for 
acting  just  as  you  did." 

Ruth's  answer  was  choked  and  uncertain. 
He  could  not  see  her  face  ;  she  had  turned  it 
quite  away  from  him.  "  Fanny  says  that  I 
hate  her.  It  is  not  true.  I  could  not  hate  her, 
—  though  I  might  have  done  so  if  she  had  n't 
been  my  sister.  But  it  is  she  who  hates  me. 
I  would  help  her  even  now  if  I  could,  —  if  it 
were  not  too  late.  She  says  that  I  can  help 
her  still.  You  know  how  ;  she  told  you." 

"  Yes,  I  know  how,"  said  Wainwright,  very 
seriously.  "  But  I  had  heard  before  she  told 
me." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  murmured  the  girl,  drearily  ;  "  it 
has  been  in  all  the  gossips'  mouths."  He  saw 
her  profile,  now ;  it  seemed  full  of  pensive 
firmness.  "  But  I  will  never  do  that  thing.  I 
would  not  do  it  even  if  it  should  save  Fanny 
and  me  from  beggary." 

"  You  mean  that  you  will  not  marry  Mr.  Am 
sterdam  ? " 

Ruth  slowly  nodded.  "  Yes,  I  mean  that," 
she  said,  under  her  breath. 


214  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

11  You  don't  care  for  him  ? "  questioned  Wain- 
wright  again. 

She  abruptly  wheeled  round  in  the  arm 
chair,  spreading  out  both  hands  for  a  moment 
with  a  very  marked  gesture  of  impatience. 
'*  Ah,  what  a  question  ! "  she  softly  cried. 

"  My  own  impression  is  that  one  might  as 
well  cherish  a  sentiment  toward  a  piece  of  fur 
niture.  Still,  women  are  doing  this  sort  of 
thing  every  day." 

"  Thieves  crowd  our  jails,  Mr.  Wainwright. 
/  don't  see  why  one  should  steal,  on  that  ac 
count." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  marrying  only  for  love  ? " 

u  No.     For  love  and  respect." 

"  You  seem,  however,  to  have  a  decided  re 
spect  for  love,"  said  Wainwright,  watching  the 
lamplight  deepen  her  pliant  hair  into  warmer 
auburn. 

"  I  hope  I  may  never  lose  that,"  she  an 
swered,  meeting  his  look  again. 

A  silence  followed.  "Twenty  years  from 
now,"  said  Wainwright,  breaking  it,  "  you  may 
tepent  this  resolve." 

"  Perhaps.  I  suppose  I  shall  ossify.  Men 
uul  women  are  doing  that  every  day,  —  almos* 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  21$ 

to  quote  your  own  words.  But  I  have  another 
reason  for  refusing  Mr.  Amsterdam.  I  would 
not  have  told  you  this,  except  for  what  has  just 
happened.  Mr.  Amsterdam  may  not  be  a  lov 
able  gentleman,  but  he  is  an  eminently  repu 
table  and  honorable  one.  If  I  married  him  I 
should  be  forcing  him  into  relationship  with  a 
woman  whom  I  am  sure  that  he  dislikes,  whom 
he  would  feel  regret  at  placing  among  his  kin 
dred,  and  with  a  man  whom  I  am  equally  sure 
that  he  despises." 

Wainwright  felt  a  slight  chill  creep  through 
him  as  these  words  were  spoken.  They  put 
the  speaker  beside  him  in  even  a  more  gener 
ous  and  humane  light  than  that  in  which  he 
had  just  been  observing  her.  But  they  some 
how  put  a  certain  sequence  of  possibilities  in 
a  new  light,  also.  He  started  noticeably,  and 
scanned  Ruth's  face  with  a  keen  look. 

"  Good  heavens  !"  he  exclaimed.  "Do  you 
mean  by  this  that  you  never  intend  to  marry  ? " 

She  broke  into  as  sad  a  laugh  as  he  had  ever 
heard.  "  Oh,  I  have  not  thought  of  that,"  she 
replied,  with  faint  irony.  "  I  have  never  con 
sidered  the  question  of  my  marrying,  —  yes  or 
no" 


2l6  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  I  fancy  your  scruples  would  vanish  if  you 
once  fell  in  love,"  he  said. 

"  You  find  them  absurd  now,  no  doubt,"  she 
returned.  "  Well,  I  can't  deny  that  they  are, 
from  a  worldly  point.  I  have  my  own  sense  of 
right  and  duty.  ...  I  grope  for  the  light  as 
best  I  can." 

"  I  think  nothing  about  you  absurd  !  "  ex 
claimed  Wainwright,  with  vehemence.  "  I 
think  you  are  a  very  good  woman,  and  I  wish 
more  of  your  sex  were  like  you." 

He  rose  as  he  spoke,  and  put  out  his  hand 
to  bid  her  good-evening.  He  then  saw  that  a 
tender  surge  of  color  was  sweeping  over  her 
face. 

"  Are  you  going  ? "  she  said,  rising  also,  and 
placing  her  hand  in  his. 

"  Yes.  It  is  just  as  well  for  me  not  to  re 
main  until  Mrs.  Spring  reappears.  Will  you 
let  me  come  soon  again  ?  It  shall  be  only  to 
see  you." 

"  I  will  let  you  come  as  often  as  you  please," 
she  answered,  "  and  I  shall  be  glad  if  it  pleases 
you  to  come  often."  Her  embarrassment,  which 
was  worn  as  gracefully  as  a  flower  might  wear 
an  overburdening  weight  of  rain,  gave  these 
words  especial  charm  for  their  hearer. 


A    GENTLEMAN   OF  LEISURE  21J 

V 

He  still  retained  her  hand,  perhaps  a  little 
against  her  will.  "  Pray,  tell  me "...  he 
said.  "  That  harsh  threat  of  your  sister's  ? 
.  .  .  There  is  no  danger  that  she  will  carry  it 
out  ? " 

"  She  has  made  it,  in  her  fits  of  temper,  a 
number  of  times  before.  But  there  is  no  dan 
ger  of  her  turning  me  out  of  this  house.  She 
would  remember,  in  a  cooler  mood,  that  there 
must  be  a  reckoning  between  her  husband 
and  myself  before  I  quit  here  for  good.  You 
see,  I  speak  quite  unreservedly  with  you.  Why 
should  I  not,  after  what  has  occurred  ? " 

She  stood  before  him,  a  slenderly  beautiful 
figure,  with  both  hands  hanging  at  her  sides, 
and  her  face  grown  pale  and  tired  now  that  the 
blush  had  left  it. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Townsend  Spring  has 
embezzled  money  which  you  gave  him  in 
trust?"  asked  Wainwright.  He  almost  whis 
pered  the  words.  He  wanted  to  get  at  the 
truth,  but  the  truth  had  such  brutality  about 
it  that  he  instinctively  spoke  it  "low. 

"Yes,  I  mean  that,"  said  Ruth,  slowly  nod 
ding  her  head.  "  I  don't  hold  him  as  criminal ; 
he  took  my  money  and  his  wife's  with  good 


21 8  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

f 

enough  intention,  no  doubt.  But  Townsena 
has  been  a  gambler  there  in  Wall  Street  foi 
ten  years.  The  air  he  breathes  is  tainted  with 
temptation  His  life  is  all  risk  and  danger  ; 
he  is  forever  fighting  chance.  One  day  there 
was  nothing  left  to  fight  it  with  but  Fanny's 
and  my  money.  I  don't  know  if  it  all  went ; 
he  has  not  said  so.  I  suppose  he  means  to  die 
game,  as  he  would  call  it.  But  I  believe  that 
lie  will  die,  financially,  and  with  a  miserab'e 
crash,  before  many  days.  I  gather  this  from 
certain  words  he  has  let  fall ;  I  have  seen  him 
alarmed  before,  but  I  have  never  seen  him 
show  despair  till  now." 

"  You  should  have  been  harder  upon  him," 
said  Wainvvright.  He  spoke  with  excessive 
solicitude.  "  My  poor  girl,  you  have  let  your 
self  be  shamefully  wronged  !  " 

He  saw  her  chin  quiver  for  an  instant.  Then 
she  covered  her  face  and  sank  upon  a  near 
lounge,  burying  her  head  in  one  of  the  cush 
ions.  A  storm  of  sobs  shook  her  frame  ;  the 
tempest  had  indeed  followed  the  calm.  Pierced 
with  pity  and  surprise,  Wainwright  stood  and 
watched  her.  He  wondered  whether  his  own 
commiserating  words  had  thus  shattered  hei 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

tranquillity.  In  his  confusion  he  could  not  re 
call  them,  but  nevertheless  blamed  himself  se 
verely  for  having  uttered  them. 

Just  as  he  was  drawing  nearer  the  lounge  — 
with  what  consolatory  intentions  it  would  be 
hard  to  state  —  Ruth  half  raised  her  head,  and 
he  caught  a  momentary  glimpse  of  her  face. 
Tears  were  streaming  from  her  eyes  and  bath 
ing  her  cheeks  ;  her  pale  mouth  twitched  once 
or  twice  as  she  strove  to  speak.  She  presently 
did  speak,  and  in  gasping,  half-coherent  tones 
bade  Wainwright  leave  her.  As  her  head  fell 
forward  once  more  upon  the  cushion,  he  slowly 
receded.  Her  behest  carried  with  it  a  pathetic 
sanctity.  .  .  .  He  passed  from  the  house  a  little 
later.  As  he  set  foot  upon  the  lamplit  pave 
ments  outside,  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  in 
anything  but  a  mood  for  the  coming  ball  at  Mrs. 
Bodenstein's.  He  took  a  long  walk,  ruminat 
ing  upon  the  strangeness  of  recent  events 
and  haunted  by  Ruth's  wan  face  and  passion 
ate  sobs.  Circumstance  seemed  to  have  re 
placed  the  office  of  time  in  bringing  his  ac 
quaintance  with  this  girl  to  speedy  ripeness. 
He  felt  that  he  knew  her  nature,  in  its  cou 
rageous  and  dutiful  simplicity  as  well  as  if  they 


220  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

had  been  friends  for  years.  He  thought  that 
she  had  acted  with  a  purity  of  motive  all  the 
lovelier  because  it  had  proved  ineffectual.  He 
saw  how  she  had  striven  against  a  positive  tyr 
anny  of  misfortune,  and  that,  however  this  had 
bent  her  spirit,  its  one  brave  resolve  remained 
unbroken.  That  last  irrepressible  outburst 
had  been  a  weakness  that  somehow  measured 
her  past  strength.  She  would  not  marry  Mr. 
Amsterdam.  He  fell  to  wondering,  as  he 
walked  onward  through  the  dim  city,  whether 
she  would  have  married  the  man,  even  if  she 
had  really  loved  him.  A  matrimonial  connec 
tion  with  the  Springs  was  certainly  an  odious 
prospect.  It  has  been  said  elsewhere  in  this 
chronicle  that  Wainwright  was  of  fastidious 
temperament.  He  brought  to  his  mind  three 
images,  or  rather  these  images  now  etched 
themselves  in  strong  lines  of  memory  upon 
his  consciousness.  He  saw  Mrs.  Spring,  with 
her  feverish  pursuits  of  pastime,  her  met 
tlesome,  frivolous,  bal  masqnt  manners,  and 
her  selfish  antagonism  against  all  domestic  de 
corums.  He  saw  Townsend.  her  husband, 
treating  life  like  a  roulette-board  ;  smoking  it 
up  sensually  like  a  quick-consumed  cigar ; 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  221 

drinking  it  down,  clay  after  day,  like  a  series  of 
fiery  potions  ;  missing  all  its  fine  flavors  in  his 
greedy,  voluptuous  haste  to  gain  them  ;  and 
cutting,  as  he  shambled  through  his  precarious 
career,  a  figure  little  less  than  socially  ribald. 
And  lastly,  he  saw  Lyddy,  bouncing,  pretty, 
under-bred,  about  as  dignified  as  a  bacchante, 
with  the  taint  of  commonness  in  both  phrase 
and  demeanor  ;  ignorant  that  a  life-long  dis 
grace  threatened  her,  and  so  self-assured,  de 
spite  all  her  volatile  artlessness,  that  you  mar 
veled  if  she  really  had  enough  innocence  left  to 
fail  of  viewing  her  folly  in  its  true  rash  colors. 

A  sense  of  these  personalities,  one  after  an 
other,  slowly  visited  Wainwright  as  he  moved 
onward.  The  result  was  a  vague  dishearten- 
ment ;  he  could  ill  account  for  the  feeling.  It 
seemed  to  follow  him  with  the  stealthy  perti 
nacity  of  one's  own  shadow.  Of  what  account 
to  him  was  the  whole  Spring  household  ?  If 
Mr.  Amsterdam  had  escaped  the  danger  of 
marrying  into  it  when  he  lost  the  happiness 
of  marrying  Ruth  Cheever,  that  was  quite  the 
patrician  widower's  own  affair. 

Eleven  o'clock  found  Wainwright  at  the  Bo- 
densteins'  ball.  He  had  finally  decided  to  go, 


222  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE 

and  remain  but  n  brief  time.  The  interest  of 
watching  closely  for  effects  of  international 
contrast  had  somehow  fled  from  him,  for  to 
night  at  least.  He  felt  that  he  had  had  cer 
tain  graver  chords  swept  with  a  heavy  touch  ; 
they  still  vibrated  and  tingled.  He  was  in  no 
mood  to  be  played  upon  by  lighter  incidents  of 
impression;  the  treble -allegros  would  seem 
thin  after  the  bass  adagio. 

Nevertheless,  the  scene  about  him  was  of 
unexpected  splendor  and  beauty.  "Say  what 
one  pleases,"  declared  Mr.  Binghamton,  who 
had  found  Wainwright  in  the  throng,  and  had 
linked  arms  with  him,  "  there  are  no  such  balls 
in  New  York  as  these  of  Bodenstein's.  I  don't 
think  that  many  more  brilliant  ones  are  given 
abroad." 

"  I  don't  think  so,  either,"  said  Wainwright, 
looking  about  him. 

The  immense  main  hall,  with  its  coil  of  bal- 
ustraded  staircase,  was  draped  and  garlanded 
with  the  costliest  flowers.  Over  each  door 
way,  and  beneath  every  chandelier,  flowers  were 
also  hanging  in  fragrant,  fanciful  devices,  like 
bells,  crescents,  or  stars.  All  the  splendor 
of  the  various  chambers,  that  glimmered  one 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  22$ 

beyond  another  in  stately  perspective,  was 
brightened  and  enriched  by  the  costumes  ot 
the  ladies  ;  for  they,  it  would  seem,  had  worn 
their  loveliest  attire  and  donned  their  choicest 
jewels  In  the  great  picture-gallery,  whose 
walls  were  lined  with  masterpieces  of  modern 
art,  the  youthful  portion  of  the  assemblage 
waltzed  to  delicious  music  played  by  a  full 
orchestra  in  an  overhanging  balcony,  midwav 
between  frescoed  ceiling  and  polished  floor. 
Supper  in  one  apartment  still  waited  unserved, 
but  a  glance  showed  how  lavish  and  commend 
able  were  its  viands,  while  the  plates  from 
which  these  would  soon  be  eaten  rose  in  mas 
sive  piles  of  silver,  and  the  spoons  and  forks 
gleamed  beside  them,  of  solid  gold.  "It  al 
ways  makes  me  nervous  when  I  have  to  eat 
anything  here,"  whispered  Mr.  Bingramton  to 
Wainwright,  as  they  passed  this  regal  board. 

"  Why  so  ?  "   asked  his  companion. 

"  I  have  a  dread  lest  a  spoon  or  a  fork 
should  accidentally  drop  into  one  of  my  pock 
ets.  It  seems  like  a  useless  risk  of  respecta 
bility." 

Mrs.  Bodenstein  looked  the  fit  hostess  for  so 
grand  a  festivity.  She  wore  a  robe  that  was  a 


224  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

blending  of  purple  velvet  and  pearly  brocade. 
Her  neck  and  arms  were  wound  about  with 
ropes  of  diamonds  ;  aigrettes  of  brilliants 
flashed  in  her  close-ringleted  blond  hair  like 
knots  of  fireflies  tangled  in  a  thicket ;  her  dress 
was  literally  strewn  with  large  solitaire  dia 
monds,  as  though  some  random  hand  had 
flung  them  there,  and  they  had  remained,  in 
sparkling  adherence.  These  prodigal  adorn 
ments  only  made  her  rare  beauty  more  mani 
fest  ;  they  suggested  no  ill -ad  vised  display; 
she  was  so  exquisite  a  creature  that  the 
glittering  tribute  harmonized  with  her  own 
personal  radiance,  and  rivaled  but  did  not  out 
shine  it.  To-night  she  was  almost  wholly 
speechless  ;  she  had  ceased  even  to  be  com 
monplace.  Several  gentlemen  stood  near  her, 
as  if  in  mute  devotion,  with  their  chapeaux-bras 
held  in  one  hand  and  their  limp  gloves  grasped 
unworn  in  the  other,  after  some  recent  edict  of 
fashion.  A  stream  of  people  was  constantly 
passing  before  the  lady  through  the  doorway 
near  which  she  was  stationed,  and  if  her  series 
of  incessant  bows  above  the  mass  of  bouquets 
pressed  against  her  bosom  had  something  of 
mechanical  inanity,  it  nevertheless  justified 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  22$ 

her  statuesque  silence,  and  gave  this  a  sort  of 
magnificent  congruity. 

Wainwright  found  a  number  of  ladies  whom 
he  knew,  and  with  whom  civility  forced  him  to 
hold  conversation.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
imposing  character  of  the  ball  weighed  upon 
e-  -ery body's  spirits  ;  or  were  his  own  clouded 
by  an  unwonted  depression  ?  .  .  .  After  the 
supper  was  served,  and  the  genteel  rush  of 
black-coated  foragers  had  in  a  measure  ceased 
round  the  bounteous  table,  he  went  himself 
for  a  morsel  or  two  of  the  edibles  and  a  glass 
of  wine.  Usually  moderate  in  the  matter  of 
wine-drinking,  his  mood  tempted  him  to  take 
more  than  a  single  glass.  Mr.  Binghamton 
joined  him,  and  they  once  more  stood  together, 
convivially  sipping  the  fine,  dry  champagne, 
whose  foamy  supply  met  the  great  polite  thirst 
of  the  guests  with  magic  readiness. 

"  I  'm  sure  all  this  satisfies  you,"  said  Mr. 
Binghamton,  with  a  little  wave  of  the  hand  to 
left  and  right,  while  he  held  his  half-emptied 
glass  a  few  inches  from  his  short  red  mous 
tache.  "  I  'm  sure  you  've  no  fault  to  find  with 
it  all.  It 's  so  deucedly  refined  that  even  the 
worst  rumbler  could  n't  be  critical." 


226  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  I  am  disposed  to  be  critical,"  said  Wain- 
wright,  looking-  about  him  for  an  instant.  "  I 
am  disposed  to  find  a  good  deal  of  fault." 

"  Ob,  come,  now  !"  laughed  Mr.  Binghamton, 
r  I  don't  like  to  hear  that  from  you.  I  've 
formed  a  very  high  opinion  of  your  taste.  I 
never  met  a  fellow,  who  had  lived  abroad  for 
years,  with  so  little  bias  in  his  views  of  things 
American.  You  've  been  wonderfully  refresh 
ing  to  me,  my  dear  boy,  after  the  surfeit  I  've 
had  of  dissatisfied  foreigners." 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  mean  to  indulge  in  detracting 
comparisons,"  said  Wainwright.  "  Far  from 
it."  He  took  another  swallow  of  wine,  with 
an  automatic  air  and  an  absent  expression  ; 
then,  setting  down  his  glass,  he  laid  his  out 
stretched  forefinger  on  Mr.  Binghamton's  coat- 
sleeve,  as  men  will  do  when  a  flavor  of  admo 
nition  lurks  in  their  coming  monologues.  "  I 
have  n't  a  word  to  say  against  the  charming 
way  in  which  all  this  grandeur  is  managed," 
he  went  on.  "I  object  to  it  on  other  grounds. 
Most  probably  it  is  quite  as  fine  a  product  of 
civilization  as  European  ball-rooms  could  fur 
nish,  at  their  best.  But  there  is  precisely  the 
point.  It  is  altogether  too  civilized  a  product 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  22? 

There  is  too  much  of  the  over-ripe  languor 
about  it.  It  smells  of  royalty,  of  imperialism, 
of  anything  that  is  not  republican.  You  would 
tell  me,  if  I  were  to  ask  you,  that  here  are  the 
best  people  of  the  land,  —  those  who  possess 
riches  and  culture  most  equally  combined. 
But  I  should  like  to  see  the  best  people  of  this 
land  less  like  the  slothful  aristocracies  of 
others.  These  splendors  do  not  intoxicate 
me  ;  they  make  me  think.  I  ask  myself  if  all 
history  can  parallel  what  I  now  see.  Where 
has  there  ever  been  a  country,  just  one  cent 
ury  old,  which  dared  to  dream  of  a  haughty 
plutocracy  like  this  ?  Rigor,  simplicity,  and 
thrift  are  the  milk  on  which  young  realms  are 
suckled.  We  seem  to  be  dangerously  unique 
over  here  ;  we  are  quite  without  precedents. 
When  other  countries  have  got  to  be  a  hun 
dred  years  of  age,  their  rulers  have  probably 
abandoned  the  habit  of  breakfasting  in  a  suit 
of  armor,  and  the  defensive  soldiery  has  per 
haps  been  reduced  by  a  few  thousands  ;  but  I 
don't  believe  these  gentlemen  have  given 
much  thought  to  feasting  their  friends  on 
champagne  and  terrapin,  or  delighting  them 
under  canopies  of  roses.  Altogether,  we  ap> 


228  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

pear  to  possess  a  wonderful  national-newness 
With  a  government  that  is  curiously  experi 
mental  I  find  we  unite  a  society  that  seems 
already  to  have  hardened  and  stratified  itself, 
as  though  it  had  passed  through  a  dozen  de 
veloping  periods.  As  I  said,  it  makes  one 
think." 

"  You  began  by  seriously  disapproving," 
laughed  Mr.  Binghamton,  "and  you  end  by 
satirizing.  I  fear  that  is  a  proof  you  are  not 
in  earnest." 

"  I  have  grown  to  be  very  much  in  earnest," 
was  the  reply,  "  about  everything  that  con 
cerns  my  country.  And  I  wish  that  more  of 
the  people  whom  I  have  met  at  places  like 
this  would  but  share  my  sincerity." 

Thus  far  Wainwright  had  esteemed  himself 
fortunate  in  seeing  nothing  of  Mrs.  Spring  ; 
but  he  was  destined  soon  to  meet  her,  disin 
clined  though  he  felt  for  the  encounter.  She 
passed  him  on  the  arm  of  a  gentleman,  within 
a  very  short  distance  of  where  he  stood.  He 
bowed  as  their  glances  came  together,  sup 
posing  and  expecting  that  this  would  be  all.. 
But  Mrs.  Spring  had  evidently  willed  other 
wise.  She  came  to  an  abrupt  pause,  and  made 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2  29 

i  beckoning  motion  with  her  fan  for  Wain- 
wright  to  approach.  This  was  of  course  an 
imperative  summons.  Just  as  he  had  obeyed 
it  she  turned  to  her  escort,  and  requested  him 
to  procure  her  a  glass  of  champagne  and  water. 
The  gentleman  departed,  and  Mrs.  Spring  was 
left  temporarily  alone  with  Wainwright. 

She  was  looking  extremely  handsome.  Every 
trace  of  agitation  had  left  her  face.  Nothing 
but  mirthful  bloom  remained  there,  and  her 
smile  did  not  at  all  diminish  as  she  now  began 
speaking,  in  low,  rapid  tones.  Her  dress,  res 
cued  under  such  dramatic  circumstances  from 
the  clutch  of  her  modiste,  was  worn  with  what 
struck  Wainwright  as  a  victorious  aplomb.  It 
seemed  to  his  eye  a  daring  assortment  of  hues  ; 
there  was  something  pyrotechnic  about  the 
way  in  which  its  reds  and  golds  met  without 
interblending.  Still,  it  had  what  is  called  style 
to  a  marked  degree,  and  suited  the  mercurial 
vivacity  of  its  wearer  ;  we  can  always  tolerate 
gaudiness  in  a  butterfly. 

"  I  'm  having  the  loveliest  time  in  the  world," 
said  Mrs.  Spring.  "Of  course  I  can't  forget 
that  I  owe  it  all  to  you,  dear,  kind  creature. 
I  'm  going  now  to  dance  the  german.  I  hope 


230  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

you  '11  stand  near  the  door  of  the  next  room,  if 
you  have  n't  a  partner,  so  I  can  see  you  to  take 
you  out  when  my  first  turn  comes.  .  .  .  Oh,  I 
forgot ;  you  don't  dance,  do  you  ?  .  .  .  Really, 
I  'm  dreadfully  ashamed  of  myself  for  behav 
ing  as  I  did  this  evening.  I  don't  mean  about 
the  .  .  .  the  dress,  you  know  ;  I  mean  my  rage 
at  Ruth.  I  suppose  she  was  right,  after  all. 
Ruth  is  a  wonderfully  conscientious  girl.  If 
I  don't  understand  her,  I  can  still  respect  her. 
You  've  no  idea  how  good  and  sweet  she  is.  I 
shall  have  a  long  talk  with  her  to-morrow.  I 
mean  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  and  treat  her 
charmingly.  She's  worth  a  thousand  like  me. 
.  .  .  Still,  you  must  n't  think  those  horrid 
things  she  said  about  poor  Townsend's  affairs 
were  true.  Oh,  not  at  all !  She  's  worried  and 
nervous  that  he  should  be  in  any  difficulty. 
But  I  've  seen  him  in  a  worse  fix  before  now. 
He  '11  clear  himself  in  a  few  days  ;  he  always 
does.  Still,  I  forgive  Ruth.  There  is  n't  a 
grain  of  real  malice  in  that  girl ;  it  was  only  her 
sense  of  duty  ;  she  has  such  an  enormous  sense 
of  duty,  you  know.  Of  course,  it 's  a  splendid 
thing  to  have,  and  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  ever 
to  find  it  the  least  monotonous  or  tiresome 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2$  I 

Ruth  and  I  shall  begin  a  grand  reconciliation 
to-morrow ;  you  must  come  very  soon  and  wit 
ness  our  domestic  felicity.  .  .  .  And  oh,  about 
that  .  .  .  little  service  you  did.  It  shall  be  all 
right,  you  dear  boy  ;  don't  have  the  slightest 
uneasiness.  .  .  .  Here  comes  Mr.  Ten  Eyck 
with  my  champagne,  so  we  must  n't  talk  state 
secrets  any  more."  .  .  . 

Wainwright  left  the  ball  soon  afterward, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Binghamton.  "  Don't 
think  of  bidding  our  hostess  good-night,"  in 
structed  the  latter.  "  Men  seldom  do  it  when 
they  leave  as  early  as  we  are  leaving.  .  .  . 
We  '11  drop  into  the  club  for  a  few  minutes,  if 
you  say  so.  But  first  I  should  like  to  show  you 
a  bit  of  social  contrast ;  I  know  you  relish  that 
sort  of  thing." 

Mr.  Binghamton's  proffered  opportunity  was 
soon  made  clear.  After  the  troop  of  urbane 
footmen  had  bowed  them  out  of  Mrs.  Boden- 
stein's  majestic  hall,  they  walked  for  some 
little  distance  through  the  crisp  night-air,  and 
at  length  came  to  a  dim-lighted  awning  that 
extended  from  the  door-way  of  a  certain  resi- 
ience  down  over  its  stoop  and  across  the  near 
sidewalk.  A  number  of  carnages  were  grouped 


232  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

close  at  hand.  There  had  been  a  similar  awn 
ing  in  front  of  the  Bodensteins'  house,  and  a 
similar  collection  of  carriages.  There,  as  here, 
a  small  throng  of  cabmen  had  waited  on  the 
pavement,  and  a  tall  policeman,  too,  with  the 
usual  gilt  insignia  of  buttons  and  the  astral 
decoration.  Thus  far  it  all  appeared  very  much 
the  same  to  Wainwright  as  what  he  had  just 
seen  elsewhere.  And  when  he  and  his  com 
panion  shortly  afterwards  found  themselves  in 
a  drawing-room  filled  with  guests,  the  resem 
blance  still  continued,  though  lacking  that 
lordly  element  of  space  and  splendor  which 
belonged  to  the  festival  they  had  just  quitted. 
A  compact  had  been  made  between  Wain 
wright  and  his  companion  that  their  stay  was 
to  be  a  very  brief  one.  "  I  don't  see  by  what 
right  you  bring  me  here,"  he  had  puzzledly 
said  to  Mr.  Binghamton.  "  I  understood  that 
cards  to  balls  must  always  be  asked  before 
hand  of  the  hostess,  here  as  in  England." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course  they  must,"  said  Mr. 
Binghamton,  "as  a  usual  matter.  But  my 
friend  Mrs.  Doughty  waives  all  those  rules. 
Indeed,  I  doubt  if  she  knows  anything  about 
them.  I  fancy  she  has  only  a  dim  idea  that 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  233 

there  is  any  such  person  as  Mrs.  Bodenstein, 
and  she  will  learn  nothing  of  her  ball  unless 
she  reads  of  it  to-morrow  in  the  'Times'  or 
'  World.'  " 

Mr.  Binghamton  presented  Wainwright  to 
their  new  hostess  as  "a  gentleman  from  Eng 
land."  Mrs.  Doughty  was  a  stout  lady,  with 
very  beautiful  teeth,  which  her  large  red-lipped 
mouth  made  the  agreeable  background  of  one 
continual  smile.  She  seemed  to  have  a  pas 
sion  for  introducing  her  guests  to  one  an 
other.  Wainwright  found  himself  presented  to 
four  ladies  in  about  as  many  minutes.  After 
favoring  him  with  this  signal  attention,  Mrs. 
Doughty  went  elsewhere,  doubtless  to  create 
new  acquaintanceships.  Wainwright  felt  grate 
ful  when  he  was  enabled  to  leave  the  society 
of  a  certain  young  lady  who  had  been  last  on 
the  list  of  the  four  ;  she  called  him  "  sir,"  and 
dealt  in  no  conversation  except  that  of  acqui 
escent  monosyllables.  She  had  a  dull  face 
and  very  large  rosy  ears,  that  projected  them 
selves  hopelessly  beyond  the  reach  of  artful 
concealment.  This  peculiarity,  combined  with 
the  fact  of  her  silence,  gave  Wainwright  a  sort 
?r  Darwinian  fancy  that  she  had  come  from  a 


234  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

long  ancestral  line  of  listeners.  The  chance, 
of  getting  away  from  this  unprofitable  damsel 
was  given  him  by  the  appearance  of  a  lank 
youth,  who  approached  and  diffidently  asked 
her  to  dance  Wainwright  observed  that  the 
lank  youth  was  in  evening  costume,  but  thai 
his  cravat,  instead  of  being  the  customary 
hueless  cambric,  was  of  violet  satin.  A  little 
later,  however,  while  standing  in  a  door-wa) 
with  Mr.  Binghamton,  he  made  further  obser 
vations  of  a  similar  sort. 

"  I  begin  to  see  what  you  meant  by  showing 
me  a  bit  of  social  contrast,"  he  said.  "The 
young  gentleman  who  just  passed  us  had  a 
shirt-front  thickly  covered  with  embroidery  ; 
another,  who  stands  yonder  by  the  mantel, 
wears  a  white  silk  neck-tie  ;  and  here  is  still 
another  merry-maker,  with  one  of  white  satin. 
This  at  least  seems  unconventional." 

"  It  might  very  well  strike  you  as  immoral," 
replied  Mr.  Binghamton,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  "  and  I  wonder  that  it  does  n't.  Let  me 
elucidate  a  little.  You  always  look  so  inter 
ested  when  I  am  elucidating,  and  I  enjoy  it  so 
much  myself  that  I  believe  I  was  born  to  be  a 
valet  de  place.  Mrs.  Dough ty's  friends  are  all  a 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  235 

very  colorless  lot.  They  are  not  snobs  noi 
fops  :  I  only  wish  some  of  them  were  ;  that 
would  give  her  assemblages  a  little  character, 
at  least.  They  don't  know  anything  about  the 
Spuytenduyvils,  or  the  Amsterdams,  or  the  Bo- 
densteins,  —  or  even  the  Springs,  for  that  mat 
ter.  They  are  mostly  rich,  and  they  hold  their 
heads  quite  high,  I  can  assure  you.  Such 
ghastly  deeds  as  putting  on  an  embroidered 
shirt,  or  a  white  satin  neck-tie,  are  incidentally 
committed  by  their  men,  as  you  have  noticed, 
but  their  women  usually  dress  in  the  most  cor 
rect  taste.  This  set  has  none  of  the  airs  and 
graces  of  the  nabobs.  Observe  how  uncere 
moniously  Mrs.  Doughty  goes  about  introduc 
ing  her  gentlemen  to  her  ladies.  She  never 
thinks  of  asking  Miss  Smith's  permission  to 
present  Mr.  Jones  ;  she  presents  Mr.  Jones, 
and  that  is  all  about  it.  She  's  the  soul  of 
hospitality,  that  same  Mrs.  Doughty.  She  has 
none  of  the  grand  unconcern  we  have  seen  in 
other  hostesses.  She  really  is  an  entertainer  ; 
she  loves  to  see  her  guests  happy  ;  it  would 
pain  her  motherly,  kindly  heart  if  she  thought 
my  one  here  was  being  bored.  .  .  .  Confound 
her !  "  broke  off  Mr.  Binghamton,  in  alarmed 


236  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

aside,  "  I  think  she 's  fixed  her  eye  on  us. 
She  '11  plunge  us  up  to  the  neck  in  new  intro- 
:H:ctions.  Let's  slip  away  before  it  is  too 
late." 

At  the  head  of  Mrs.  Dough ty's  stairs,  just 
as  they  were  descending,  wrapped  in  their 
great  coats,  Wainwright  and  his  friend  en 
countered  no  less  a  person  than  Mrs.  Spencer 
Van  ierhoff.  She  had  on  the  scarlet  and  yel 
low  gown.  She  looked  charmingly  fresh, 
though  she  had  just  come  from  the  Boden- 
steins',  and  was  now  about  to  go  down  into  the 
drawing-rooms  of  Mrs.  Doughty. 

"Do  not  forget  to-morrow  evening,"  she 
said  to  Wainwright,  in  her  august*yet  winsome 
way.  "  We  are  going  to  Mrs.  Bangs's  to 
gether,  and  you  are  to  call  for  me  at  half  past 
eight.  Was  not  the  Bodensteins'  ball  superb  • 
I  felt  proud  to  be  there."  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  was 
slowly  descending  the  stairs  while  she  spoke 
thus,  with  her  head  amiably  turned  sideways, 
and  Wainwright  and  Mr.  Binghamton  were 
following  her.  "  I  told  Mr.  Bodenstein  to 
night,"  she  proceeded,  "that  I  considered  him 
a  great  philanthropist  to  delight  his  guests  ir. 
so  refined  and  delicious  a  way.  I  should  like 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2$? 

to  have  a  medal  struck  in  his  honor.  His 
portrait  should  be  on  one  side  and  his  wife's 
on  the  other,  with  all  those  glorious  jewels 
about  her  neck.  Don't  laugh  at  me,  you 
skeptical  Mr.  Binghamton !  You  never  did 
have  any  indulgence  for  my  enthusiasms." 

"  But,  my  dear  lady,"  exclaimed  the  Eng 
lishman,  as  they  all  three  reached  the  lower 
hall,  "  you  know  you  have  so  many  enthusi 
asms  !" 

"  Of  course  I  have,"  replied  Mrs.  Vander- 
hoff,  arranging  the  folds  of  her  dress  with  one 
or  two  stately  touches  before  she  entered  the 
drawing-room.  "  I  cultivate  them  ;  I  pick  up 
all  I  can  find,  and  I  find  a  great  many  ;  there 
is  no  monopoly,  in  this  blase  ^gQ  of  ours." 

"Don't  mind  Binghamton,"  said  Wain- 
wright,  smiling.  "  He  is  only  vexed  with  your 
enthusiasms  because  he  is  n't  among  them." 

"  If  you  side  with  me  in  that  nice  way,"  re 
turned  Mrs.  Vanderhoff,  nodding  to  him  across 
her  shoulder,  "  I  shall  be  tempted  to  put  you 
on  the  list.   ...   By  the  bye,  pray  remember 
that  engagement  of  ours."  .  .   . 

"  What  remarkable   freshness    that  woman 


238  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

has ! "   said  Wainwright  to    his  companion,  as 
they  quitted  the  house. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  agreed  Mr.  Binghamton,  with  his 
short  bubble  of  laughter,  "  she  is  amazingly 
fresh.  But  she  makes  society  use  the  water 
ing-pot  to  keep  her  so  !  " 


XIII. 

|HEY  went  to  the  Metropolitan  Club 
afterward,  as  Mr.  Binghamton  had 
suggested.  Entering  one  of  the  spa 
cious  rooms  on  the  lower  floor,  they  found  a 
group  of  members  seated  together.  Other 
wise  the  club  seemed  quite  vacant,  though  it 
was  presumable  that  the  card-room  on  the 
floor  above  held  its  usual  number  of  late  game 
sters.  They  joined  this  group,  which  con 
sisted  of  gentlemen  whom  Wainwright  was  not 
specially  desirous  to  meet.  He  had  already 
seen  them  all  at  the  Bodensteins'.  Mr. 
Gansevoort  was  one  of  them,  and  the  four 
others  were  persons  of  an  extreme  similarity 
to  Mr.  Gansevoort.  It  was  indeed  the  same 
group,  with  one  or  two  variations,  whose  curi 
ously  sportsman-like  converse  he  had  over- 
aeard  on  the  evening  o.  his  first  appearance 


240  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

within  the  club.  The  present  talk,  after  Wain- 
vvright  and  his  companion  had  seated  them 
selves,  was  of  a  character  wholly  equine. 
Everybody  appeared  to  disagree  with  every 
body  else  on  the  subject  of  certain  horses 
possessed  by  Mr.  Gansevoort  himself.  The 
speed,  age,  and  general  excellence  of  these 
animals  had,  for  some  reason,  grown  a  sharp 
question  of  debate.  Wainwright  listened  very 
languidly  to  the  lively  defense  of  their  owner, 
and  once  or  twice  felt  bored  enough  to  think  of 
departing  before  the  consumption  of  his  cigar. 
But  a  little  later,  after  several  heavy  bets  had 
been  exchanged  between  the  disputants,  the 
recent  ball  became  a  topic  of  discussion.  Mr. 
Binghamton,  who  looked  to  be  on  terms  of  the 
warmest  intimacy  with  all  his  surrounders, 
chose  to  instigate  this  change.  He  informed 
the  company,  with  impudent  good-nature,  that 
ihey  were  babbling  like  a  lot  of  horse-jockeys, 
and  had  better  find  something  more  sensible  to 
quarrel  about.  "Why  on  earth,"  he  finished, 
addressing  Mr.  Gansevoort,  "  did  none  of  you 
/oung  swells  stay  later  at  the  Bodensteins'  ?  I 
supposed  you  would  all  remain  and  dance  the 
german,  like  respectable  supporters  of  society.' 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  241 

A  light,  scornful  laugh  followed  these  words. 
It  was  chiefly  delivered  by  Mr.  Gansevoort,  but 
his  friends  also  joined  in  it. 

"An  hour  and  a  half  at  the  Bodensteins' 
was  quite  enough  for  me,"  said  that  personage, 
gazing  attentively  at  one  of  his  shoes,  and  mov 
ing  his  foot  to  right  and  left,  as  though  search 
ing  for  some  flaw  in  its  radiance.  "  I  thought 
the  whole  affair  very  vulgar.  It  is  difficult  to 
tell  just  what  it  lacked,  but  it  was  "...  (here 
the  speaker  paused  in  his  even  drawl,  and 
looked  directly  at  Wainwright)  ..."  well,  I 
can't  say  worse  than  to  call  it  horridly  Amer 
ican." 

Wainwright  felt  an  irritation  prick  every 
nerve.  He  had  been  called  upon,  of  late,  to 
hear  a  good  deal  of  language  precisely  like 
this.  A  few  weeks  ago  he  would  not  have  be 
lieved  that  it  could  ever  wound  him.  He 
might  have  realized  himself  regretting  it  as  a 
most  unpalatable  piece  of  snobbery,  but  he 
could  not  have  conceived  that  it  would  inflict 
upon  him  any  actual  grievance. 

As  Mr.  Gansevoort  had  appealed  so  clearly 
to  Wainwright,  the  latter  saw  fit  to  answer 

JO 


242  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

him,  This  was  done  in  tones  whose  dry  cool 
ness  must  have  deepened  the  cut  of  the  words. 

"I  did  not  observe,"  he  said,  "that  the  en 
tertainment  to-night  was  peculiarly  American. 
I  should  have  been  glad  to  find  it  so.  Original 
things  are  always  better  than  imitations." 

Mr.  Gansevoort  started  and  stared.  If 
Wainwright's  voice  had  not  been  so  hard,  he 
might  have  suspected  no  point  of  rebuke  in 
what  he  had  just  heard,  As  it  was,  he  slightly 
colored,  and  showed  a  painful  uneasiness.  Out 
side  his  favorite  folly  he  was  by  no  means  a 
bad  fellow,  of  equable  temper,  courteous  in 
stincts,  and  yet  not  at  all  slow  to  resent  an 
affront.  His  amiable  qualities  made  him  justly 
popular,  and  he  had  many  traits  of  true  manli 
ness. 

"  Our  opinions  appear  to  differ,"  he  said, 
with  an  accent  of  satire,  entirely  forgetting  his 
English  intonation.  "  But  I  suppose  there  is 
uo  harm  in  such  disagreement,  provided  it 's  a 
vivil  one  on  both  sides." 

Wainwright  gave  a  cold  smile.  "  Oh,  cer 
tainly  not,"  he  replied,  "though  the  best  of  us 
are  often  liable  to  meet  with  views  that  rather 
try  our  tempers." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  243 

Mr.  Gansevoort  straightened  himself  in  his 
chaii.  "  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  said  any 
thing  to  try  yours,"  he  retorted,  with  a  distinct 
frown. 

"  Frankly,  I  think  you  are  mistaken,  there," 
asserted  Wainwright,  raising  his  voice  a  little. 
"  I  have  not  .seen  as  much  of  the  country  in 
which  I  was  born  as  you  have  done.  But  I 
have  seen  enough  to  warrant  my  feeling  some 
resentment  toward  those  who  affect  the  man 
ner  of  constant  idle  sneers  at  her  expense. 
And  I  consider  that  the  man  who  enjoys  her 
protection,  both  as  regards  life  and  property, 
might  employ  his  time  more  profitably  than  in 
pelting  her  with  cheap  sarcasms." 

Wainwright  looked  about  him  at  the  whole 
group  while  he  finished  speaking.  A  dead 
silence  followed.  He  broke  its  spell  by  rising, 
but  at  the  same  instant  Mr.  Gansevoort  rose 
also,  and  faced  him,  flushed  with  anger. 

"  You  are  impertinent,  sir  ! "  he  exclaimed, 
with  blunt  heat,  and  he  made  a  step  forward, 
as  though  bent  upon  striking  Wainwright. 
But  immediately  several  forms  interposed  be 
tween  the  two  men.  Wainwright  found  him 
self  gently  but  firmly  pushed  backward  by  Mr. 


244  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Binghamton.  He  was  not  at  all  angry  ;  he 
had  spoken  with  deliberation,  and  believed, 
whether  rightly  or  wrongly,  that  he  had  ad 
ministered  a  most  deserved  rebuke.  Mr.  Bing. 
hamton  and  he  now  walked  arm  in  arm  toward 
the  further  end  of  the  large  apartment,  and 
stood  there,  holding  a  low  but  animated  discus 
sion  for  at  least  ten  minutes.  Meanwhile,  Mr. 
Gansevoort,  surrounded  by  his  friends,  was  ex 
pressing  himself  with  rather  excited  gestures, 
and  either  receiving  the  sympathy  of  those 
about  him  or  undergoing  their  efforts  at  pacifi 
cation. 

Wainwright  listened  placidly  to  his  friend's 
suggestion  that  he  should  apologize  to  Mr. 
Gansevoort.  "Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Bingham 
ton,  "  the  fellow  got  no  more  than  what  he 
merited.  Viewed  internationally,  he  is  a  don- 
Key.  But  then  comes  the  unfortunate  con 
sideration  that  there  is  no  law  against  the  ex 
istence  of  that  animal.  A  resigned  endurance 
of  nuisances  is  one  of  society's  harshest  rules, 
but  nevertheless  you  must  recollect  that  you 
are  bound  to  obey  it." 

Wainwright  smiled  during  the  delivery  of 
this  counsel  ;  he  did  not  seem  at  all  displeased 
••vith  it.  But  when  it  was  ended,  he  said,  — 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  24$ 

"  I  shall  not  apologize  to  Mr.  Gansevoort 
Ever  since  I  have  known  him  and  a  number 
of  men  who  resemble  him,  they  have  been 
straining  my  patience.  To-night  he  made  a 
ridiculous  remark.  I  replied  by  a  bit  of  irony 
that  I  could  n't  resist.  It  did  not  then  need 
much  to  make  me  speak  out  the  truth,  and  he 
used  exactly  the  requisite  stimulant.  I  think 
that  altogether  I  have  let  off  both  him  and  his 
little  popinjay  constituency  very  easily  indeed. 
I  shall  remain  here  a  short  time  longer,  and  if 
no  new  developments  occur  I  shall  go  home 
to  bed." 

Just  then  a  member  of  the  Gansevoort  group 
was  seen  crossing  the  room.  He  presently 
addressed  Wainwright  with  great  politeness. 
He  said  that  the  unpleasant  feeling  which  had 
recently  arisen  could  no  doubt  be  settled  in  a 
friendly  way.  He  thought  it  quite  possible 
that  Mr.  Wainwright  would  admit,  on  reflec 
tion,  to  having  given  Mr.  Gansevoort  good 
reason  for  annoyance  ;  and  without  doubt  some 
message  of  apology  would  not,  in  that  case,  be 
difficult  of  arrangement.  This  silver-tongued 
ambassador  finished  by  saying  that  Mr.  Ganse 
voort  felt  both  wounded  and  amazed,  as  he  had 


246  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

intentionally  given    no    cause   for   the   rather 
severe  treatment  which  he  had  received. 

Wainwright  heard  these  diplomatic  sen 
tences  through,  and  then  tranquilly  replied  to 
them. 

"I  shall  offer  no  apology  whatever,"  he  said. 
"  If  I  told  you  why,  it  would  doubtless  be  con 
sidered  a  further  rudeness  on  my  part.  But  I 
have  reasons  which  seem  to  me  good  reasons, 
and  I  prefer  simply  to  stand  by  the  opinions 
which  I  then  expressed." 

He  bowed  to  the  person  whom  he  had  thus 
answered,  and  walked  with  leisurely  steps  from 
the  room,  Mr.  Binghamton  accompanying  him. 

"I  am  afraid  there  may  be  trouble  about 
this  affair,"  said  the  latter,  when  they  had 
reached  the  hall.  "  Gansevoort  is  furious." 

"  I  don't  see  how  his  fury  can  affect  me," 
replied  Wainwright,  "unless  he  should  make 
a  personal  attack  upon  me  at  some  time,  - 
which  might  perhaps  be  a  disastrous  step  for 
him  to  take."  He  paused,  and  a  chill  glitter 
disturbed  his  usually  gentle  eyes.  "  I  may 
;iave  been  wrong,  from  a  certain  point  of 
view,"  he  continued.  "  I  can  readily  under 
stand  just  why  you  think  I  was  wrong.  There 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  247 

are  often  several  ways  of  viewing  the  same 
action,  and  all  of  them  rational  ways.  But  one 
fact  remains  :  I  have  resented  hearing  a  great 
country  ridiculed  by  a  small  native  of  it.  I 
have  been  shocked  and  disgusted  by  an  ar 
rogant  dandy,  and  I  have  shown  what  seems  to 
me  admissible  displeasure.  .  .  .  Shall  I  say 
good-night  here,  or  will  you  go  now  ?  " 

"  I  shall  remain  a  little  longer,"  replied 
Mr.  Binghamton,  whose  gossip-soul  doubtless 
thirsted  for  the  last  intelligence  from  the  ad 
joining  chamber. 

"  Good-night,  then,"  said  Wainwright,  going 
into  the  coat-room  to  get  his  wraps.  "  You 
know  my  hotel,"  he  added,  laughing,  "  if  any 
body  should  wish  to  look  me  up." 

"  By  Jove,  I  hope  it  won't  come  to  that ! " 
said  Mr.  Binghamton,  turning  away,  with  one 
of  his  droll  grimaces. 


XIV. 

URING  the  next  day  Wainwright  re 
ceived  no  hostile  communication  from 
Mr.  Gansevoort,  though,  judging  by 
what  he  already  knew  of  this  gentleman's 
contempt  for  American  customs,  he  would 
scarcely  have  been  surprised  if  something  as 
European  as  a  formal  challenge  had  reached 
him,  arranged  in  punctilious  conformity  with 
"the  code."  While  he  sat  in  his  room,  that 
afternoon,  however,  and  reflected  with  soft 
amusement  on  the  course  which  it  would  be 
best  to  pursue  under  circumstances  of  such 
grandiose  importance,  an  envelope  was  brought 
him  from  Mrs.  Spring.  It  contained  some 
brief  but  cordial  lines  from  that  lady,  and  it 
also  contained  several  bank-notes,  each  of 
large  amount,  whose  sum-total  fully  covered 
his  loan  of  the  previous  evening. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  249 

This  event  was  a  great  gratification  to 
Wainwright.  It  made  him  feel  that  his  next 
visit  at  Mrs.  Spring's  house  would  not  be  paid 
with  any  feeling  of  awkward  reluctance.  Her 
late  allusions  to  Ruth  had  filled  him  with  as 
tonishment.  He  felt  that  he  had  no  key  to 
this  woman's  character.  He  could  not  decide 
whether  the  change  was  one  of  policy  or  im 
pulse,  but  he  found  himself  ardently  hoping 
that  it  would  be  a  permanent  change.  To  think 
'of  Ruth  now  was  to  waken  within  him  a  gnaw 
ing  anxiety,  and  as  her  tragic  position  had  be 
come  an  almost  incessant  care  to  him,  the 
fang  of  such  discomfort  was  kept  rather 
closely  occupied.  He  resolved  to  go  at  once 
and  personally  acknowledge  the  payment  of 
Mrs.  Spring's  indebtedness.  Reaching  her 
house  not  long  afterward,  he  inquired  for 
•'  the  ladies,"  and  was  shown  into  the  small  re 
ception-room.  Here  Ruth  soon  joined  him. 
She  looked  even  paler  and  wearier  than  be 
fore.  "  I  have  to  apologize  to  you,"  she  said, 
with  a  wan  smile,  when  they  were  both  seated. 
'*  I.  behaved  so  stupidly,  so  childishly,  last 
light" 

"  I  can't  at  all  agree  with  you  there,"  said 


250  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Wain wright,  using  a  sort  of  kindly  decision. 
'''Let  us  drop  that  subject,  if  you  please.  .  .  . 
I  have  just  received  a  communication  from 
your  sister,"  he  went  on.  "  I  hope  it  put  her 
to  no  inconvenience.  Her  promptness  was 
quite  unnecessary.  I  suppose  you  know  to 
what  I  refer." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ruth.  She  looked  straight  into 
his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  something  about 
her  worried  face  suggested  to  him  the  reti 
cence  and  reserve  with  which  she  had  already 
met  his  past  efforts  to  secure  her  confidence. 
But-  this  expression  was  fleeting  ;  if  Wain- 
wright  had  not  learned  to  know  her  face  so 
well  he  might  not  have  perceived  the  subtle 
alteration.  "  Fanny  procured  the  money  from 
Townsend  ;  I  am  nearly  sure  that  she  did  not 
tell  him  for  what  purpose  she  required  it.  But 
her  demand  was  very  imperative.  Townsend 
became  enraged,  and  said  many  reckless  things ; 
they  had  a  miserable  scene  together  ;  after 
ward  he  sent  her  up  the  amount  from  his  place 
of  business,  with  a  really  terrible  little  note. 

.  .  Oh,  dear,"  she  broke  off,  suddenly,  drop 
ping  both  hands  in  her  lap,  and  letting  them 
rest  there,  "  it  seems  so  strange  for  me  to  be 
you  all  this  !  " 


A   GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  251 

"  I  wish  that  it  seemed  quite  natural,"  mur 
mured  Wainwright.  "  I  want  it  to  seem  so." 

Ruth  gave  a  mournful,  tremulous  laugh.  "  I 
have  hidden  my  distress  from  everybody  in 
such  a  jealous  way  till  now." 

"  By  everybody  you  mean  the  people  whom 
you  have  met  since  you  came  here  to  live  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  told  me,  the  first  time  I  saw  you,  that 
you  had  left  some  dear  friends  in  that  Massa 
chusetts  town.  It  might  have  comforted  you 
to  have  spoken  to  them  of  your  sufferings. 
Why  should  n't  you  make  me  a  kind  of  proxy, 
and  act  just  as  if  I  had  known  you  from  child 
hood  ? " 

"  But  you  don't  remind  me  of  those  friends 
at  all,"  said  Ruth,  shaking  her  head,  with  a 
gleam  of  tender  comedy  in  her  seriousness. 
"  They  were  very  plain  and  simple  people. 
Some  of  them  write  to  me  now ;  their  letters 
seem  to  come  from  another  planet.  I  often 
wonder  what  their  counsel  would  be  if  I  had 
told  them  everything." 

"  You  are  sure  that  they  would  not  have 
counseled  you  to  do  one  thing  :  they  would 
not  have  proposed  that  you  should  marry 
against  your  will." 


252  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Ruth's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Her  voice 
shook  as  she  said,  "  No,  no  ;  I  am  sure  they 
would  not.  And  yet  if  they  knew  how  my 
sister  had  begged  and  implored  that  of  me 

his    very    day,    perhaps "...    She   paused  ; 

he  was  resolutely  choking  back  her  tears. 
Wainwright  at  once  spoke,  with  swift  earnest 
ness. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Your  sister  has  then 
been  so  cruel  ?  She  assured  me  last  night 

o 

that  she  was  to  treat  you  with  every  sign  of 
repentance.  Can  she  have  kept  her  word  so 
ill  ? " 

Ruth  seemed  bewildered  by  the  force  and 
feeling  with  which  he  spoke  these  words.  She 
was  silent  for  a  moment,  as  if  meditating. 
Then  she  slowly  answered,  — 

"  It  was  after  Townsend  had  gone,  this 
morning.  She  made  me  a  passionate,  a  despair 
ing  appeal.  Her  eyes  are  open  at  last  :  she 
has  seen  the  truth  ;  it  fills  her  with  horror. 
She  is  lying  in  her  room  now,  with  a  blinding 
headache.  ...  It  is  very  pitiful." 

"And  you!"  exclaimed  Wainwright,  carried 
3,way  for  the  instant  by  severe  indignation. 
''  Can  it  be  possible  that  the  cowardly  entreat 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2$$ 

ies  of  this  selfish  woman  will  make  you  forget 
the  magnitude  of  such  a  sacrifice  ?  " 

She  turned  to  him  with  a  flushing  face.  She 
had  apparently  caught  some  of  his  own  eager 
warmth.  "  I  could  never  forget  that,"  she 
broke  forth,  plaintively.  "  If  I  consented,  I 
should  know  all  the  time  just  how  hard  my  task 
would  be ! " 

"  If  you  consented  !  "  cried  Wainwright. 
"  But  you  will  not  consent ! "  he  hurried  on. 
"You  ought  not,  —  you  must  not !"  He  had 
leaned  very  close  to  her ;  his  breath  swept  her 
cheek.  "  Tell  me,  "  he  said,  —  "  tell  me  that 
you  are  still  firm  !  " 

Ruth  had  clasped  both  her  hands  tensely 
together  while  they  still  lay  in  her  lap.  Again 
she  shook  her  head  ;  a  woful  irresolution  spoke 
in  this  mute  act.  "  Let  us  say  no  more  about, 
it,"  she  presently  faltered,  in  a  dreary  voice. 

"  Which  means  that  you  may  yield." 

The  color  died  from  her  face  while  he  stead 
ily  watched  it.  She  had  begun  to  bite  her  lips, 
and  he  saw  her  respiration  quicken.  She  had 
not  been  looking  at  him  for  some  moments,  but 
now,  as  she  turned  ner  eyes  upon  him,  they 
held  a  feverish  light  that  seemed  to  have  dried 
their  unshed  tears. 


254  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISUKE. 

"What  can  I  do  ?  "  she  asked  him;  and  her 
voice  was  almost  a  wail.  "  Fanny  says  that  I 
hold  her  life  in  my  hands.  You  yourself  said 
to  me,  only  a  little  while  ago,  that  women  are 
selling  themselves  every  day.  No  one  seems 
to  blame  them.  I  suppose  it  is  a  very  pleasant 
thing  to  have  your  diamonds  and  your  opera- 
box." 

She  rose  and  went  to  the  hearth-place,  where 
a  crackling  fire  had  bathed  in  crimson  light 
the  low  trellis  of  polished  steel.  She  placed 
one  foot  on  the  trellis,  and  stared  down  into 
the  fire,  while  its  glow  made  a  ruddy  breadth 
of  reflection  along  the  front  of  her  dark  dress. 

Wainwright  also  rose,  and  his  eyes  followed 
her.  He  put  forward  both  hands,  and  held 
them  thus  extended  for  a  few  seconds.  It  had 
flashed  upon  him  that  he  loved  her,  and  he  was 
indeed  on  the  point  of  telling  her  this,  and  of 
asking  her  to  become  his  wife.  But  presently 
his  arms  dropped  at  his  sides.  She,  meanwhile, 
had  not  seen  his  gesture,  nor  that  he  had 
thrown,  during  this  brief  time,  exceedingly  pale. 

He  went  up  to  her,  a  little  later,  and  put  out 
his  hand.  "Good-afternoon,"  he  said.  "Give 
my  thanks  to  your  sister." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  253 

"Must  you  go?"  said  Ruth,  placing  her 
hand  for  a  moment  in  his.  "  I  hope  I  have  not 
offended  you  with  my  worldly  views,"  she  con 
tinued,  while  another  laugh,  short  and  discord 
ant,  left  her  lips. 

He  strove  to  retain  her  hand,  but  she  drew 
it  away.  "  Are  you  going  to  marry  Mr.  Am 
sterdam  ? "  he  said. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  responded,  looking  down 
again  into  the  red  heart  of  the  fire. 

"  You  told  me  that  you  would  see  yourself 
and  your  sister  beggars  rather  than  marry 
him." 

"  I  can't  deny  it.  I  did  n't  think,  then,  what  a 
pressure  circumstance  can  exert.  It  is  crush 
ing  me  down,  I  fear.  Oh,  we  are  so  often  sure 
of  our  strength  till  the  time  arrives  for  show 
ing  it." 

A  reproachful  answer  shaped  itself  on  Wain- 
wright's  lips,  but  it  did  not  find  egress.  He 
somehow  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  let  it 
pass.  A  silence  ensued.  He  was  looking  at 
Ruth,  and  she  was  looking  directly  down  into 
the  vivacious  blaze  of  the  fire.  He  never  for 
got  these  few  minutes.  He  never  forgot  the 
mental  conflict  that  so  memorably  weighted 
them. 


256  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

When,  a  short  time  afterward,  he  was  out  in 
the  street,  walking  at  rapid  pace,  he  could  not 
recall  whether  or  no  he  had  said  good-by  a 
second  time.  His  mood  seemed  very  strange 
to  himself.  With  enough  heat  to  have  kindled 
a  flame  of  impetuosity,  he  denounced  himself 
as  cold-blooded.  He  was  in  love  with  Ruth 
Cheever,  and  he  had  had  the  chance  of  dis 
covering  if  she  would  rebuff  his  open  declara 
tion.  But  a  new  motive  had  plucked  him  by 
the  sleeve,  and  he  had  succumbed  to  its  remon 
strating  whisper.  He  had  thought  of  forming 
a  hated  connection  with  the  Springs,  and  this 
thought  had  made  him  recoil.  Reason  seemed 
winning  the  day  with  him  against  a  far  less 
deliberate  foe;  but  while  he  owned  her  triumph, 
he  deplored  it.  He  had  always  told  himself 
that  he  would  marry,  if  he  ever  married,  as 
much  with  his  head  as  with  his  heart.  He  had 
been  reared  to  respect  what  is  termed  caste ; 
.lis  peculiar  English  surroundings,  and  the 
stress  of  early  educational  maxims,  had  stamped 
him  with  conservatism.  But  he  had  felt  the 
force  of  his  century  as  he  grew  older,  and  had 
watched  many  green  beliefs  wither  into  dry 
ness,  tossing  them  out  of  doors  and  windows 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  257 

so  to  speak,  when  they  had  grown  futile  en 
cumbrances.  But  certain  sprays  remained  ; 
they  clung  to  his  mental  upholstery,  as  it  were, 
and  scented  it  with  an  odor  of  the  past.  He 
wanted  his  possible  wife  to  bear  as  white  a 
shield  as  his  own.  If  he  had  cast  aside  all 
faith  in  descent  and  ancestry,  as  the  words  are 
commonly  accepted,  he  still  set  large  store  by 
the  truths  of  heredity.  Title  and  distinction 
might  go  for  little  worth,  but  it  was  not  so 
easy  to  waive  the  claims  of  having  sprung  from 
an  unblemished  stock.  The  influence  of  these 
tenets  now  strongly  swayed  him.  He  knew 
that  a  passion  had  risen  to  do  battle  with 
them,  and  that  whichever  way  the  final  victory 
turned,  it  must  leave  him  some  dead  to  be 
buried. 

Naturally,  he  was    disinclined  to   keep   his 
engagement  with  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  that  even 
ing,  and  once  or  twice  he  resolved  on  framing 
an  excuse  for  not  accompanying  her.     But  in 
he  end  he  decided  that  this  would  be  an  al 
most  churlish  retreat  at  so  late  an  hour,  and 
determined   to  face  forthcoming  events,  even 
though  his  adverse  humor  should  invest  them 
with  a  mild  martyrdom. 
17 


258  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

He  found  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  bonneted  and 
cloaked,  waiting-  for  him  to  arrive.  She  gave 
him  a  most  genial  welcome,  and  as  she  did  so 
Wainwright  could  not  help  catching,  beneath 
the  folds  of  her  mantle,  a  gleam  of  the  inevi 
table  red-and-yellow  braveries.  They  presently 
left  the  house  together,  entering  a  carriage 
whose  quiet  dignities  of  appointment  were  vis 
ible  even  in  the  dim  light.  Just  as  a  long- 
coated  footman,  with  massive  buttons  and  cock 
ade,  was  slamming  the  door  of  the  vehicle, 
Mrs.  Vanderhoff  said  to  Wainwright,  in  her 
blandest  manner,  — 

"This  is  the  carriage  of  my  dear  friend,  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald.  It  is  so  good  of  her  to  loan  it  me 
this  evening.  We  are  both  going  afterward  to 
a  reception,  —  a  late  affair,  you  know,  —  and 
she  allowed  me  to  make  use  of  it  for  an  hour 
or  two." 

"That  was  very  accommodating,"  said  Wain 
wright. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  find  that  people  are  very  ac 
commodating,  as  a  rule.  I  once  heard  that  an 
enemy  of  mine  had  said  I  was  too  fond  of  ask 
ing  favors.  Upon  my  word,  I  don't  know  but 
she  was  right.  I  am  so  willing  to  accommo- 


A   GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  259 

date  other  people  that  I  forget,  sometimes, 
their  disobliging  tendencies.  Mind  you,  I  don't 
say  that  at  all  cynically.  I  am  not  the  least 
bit  of  a  cynic." 

"I  know,"  said  Wainwright  ;  "you  are  an 
enthusiast.  Pray,  have  you  any  enthusiasm 
for  this  Mrs.  Bangs,  to  whose  house  we  are 
going  ? " 

"Indeed,  yes  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Vanderhoff. 
Being  seated  opposite  Wainwright  as  the  car 
riage  rolled  along,  she  leaned  toward  him  in 
the  darkness,  and  a  flash  of  lamplight  showed 
her  white-gloved  hands  clasped  together  in 
momentary  fervor.  "  I  think  she  has  a  very 
remarkable  mind.  I  find  a  great  deal  in  her  to 
enjoy,  and  in  the  people  whom  she  has  about 
her,  also  " 

"Tell  me,"  said  Wainwright,  "do  you  mix 
her  and  her  people  in  with  your  more  conven 
tional  friends,  —  with  those  who  have  n't  re 
markable  minds,  let  us  say  ?" 

Mrs.  Vanderhoff  was  silent  for  a  moment,  in 
the  darkness.  "  No,"  she  presently  replied,  in 
changed,  reflective  tones.  "  I  have  days  for 
each  set." 

"Oh,"  said  Wainwright,  dryly,  "you  manage 
't  that  way." 


260  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

11  Yes.  It  saves  aimless  collisions.  7  like 
all  sorts  of  people;  I  can  always  find  some 
thing  in  everybody  that  amuses,  interests  me; 
I  am  vastly  social.  But  then  I  recognize  the 
fact  that  others  are  not.  Imagine  Mrs.  Boden- 
stein  and  Mrs.  Lucretia  Bangs  meeting  at  the 
same  assemblage !  It  would  be  absurd  ;  it 
would  even  be  melancholy.  Mrs.  Bangs  has 
produced  books,  pamphlets,  poems,  and  deliv 
ered  lectures  ;  I  don't  believe  she  has  ever 
written  '  woman  '  for  thirty  years  without  em 
ploying  a  capital  W.  Mrs.  Bodenstein,  —well, 
you  have  met  her;  you  know  what  she  is,  —  a 
dear,  charming  person,  and  so  beautiful,  so 
dainty,  so  patrician  !  Each  fills  her  place  ; 
each  gratifies  something  in  my  nature ;  each 
is  my  friend." 

"  You   are  very  optimistic  in  your  views  of 
society." 

"  I  am  very  catholic,"  said  Mrs.  Vanderhoff, 
laughing  her  sweet  laugh.  "  I  love  to  watch 
humanity  in  its  numberless  variations.  It  is 
like  a  delicious  panorama  to  me  ;  it  fascinates 
me.  .  .  .  Ah,  the  carriage  is  stopping  ;  you 
will  now  see  something  of  our  literary  cliques 
Mr.  Wain  wright.  You  will  find  them  very  dif 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  26 1 

ferent  from  any  of  the   circles   in  which  you 
have  previously  moved."  .   .  . 

Wain wright  had  not  been  five  minutes  in 
the  parlors  of  Mrs.  Lucretia  Bateson  Bangs 
before  he  was  inclined  to  indorse  this  criti 
cism.  They  were  small  parlors,  and  they  were 
decidedly  crowded.  Mrs.  Bangs  was  a  lady  of 
great  height  and  angular  figure,  with  gray  hair 
rolled  high  from  an  austere,  sharp-cut  face 
Immediately  on  meeting  her,  Wainwright  found 
himself  presented  to  a  buxom  little  person, 
who  wore  lean,  dangling  ringlets,  but  whose 
face  was  fat  enough  for  a  cherub.  This  lady 
was  made  known  to  him  as  Mrs.  Eleanor  Pol- 
hemus  Brown,  and  her  hostess  pronounced  the 
name  with  an  accent  of  respectful  decision,  as 
though  she  were  dealing  in  a  quotation  whose 
authorship  had  become  classical.  Mrs.  Brown 
had  on  a  blue  silk  dress  profusely  trimmed  along 
the  front  with  fringes  of  white  bugles,  cross 
ing  each  other  in  such  geometrical  precision 
that  the  whole  embellishment  looked  like  a 
problem  awaiting  solution  But  there  appeared 
nothing1  at  all  problematic  about  Mrs.  Brown 
herself.  She  was  very  easy  to  solve,  Wain 
wright  soon  concluded.  She  spoke  with  speed 


262  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

and  was  exceedingly  genial.  Her  rural  pro 
nunciations  and  nasal  tones  struck  him  as 
something  most  amusingly  odd.  They  indeed 
almost  amounted,  in  his  own  opinion,  to  an 
actual  dialect ;  he  had  never  heard  anything 
remotely  like  them  before.  With  more  ab 
ruptness  than  their  brief  acquaintance  war 
ranted,  he  asked  the  lady  whether  she  was  a 
New  Yorker. 

"Oh,  dear,  no,"  replied  Mrs.  Brown.  "I 
was  born  'n  East  Rockingham,  Vermont.  I  'm 
a  Green  Mountain  girl."  Here  she  gave  a 
violent  laugh,  whose  mirth  was  interfered  with 
by  a  sudden  downward  writhe  of  the  lip  over 
her  front  teeth,  two  of  which  were  missing. 
"You're  an  Englishman,  ain't  you?  No? 
Mercy  !  Well,  you  must  'a  lived  over  there 
forever  and  a  day.  I  just  adore  England 
m'self  !  We  had  to  rush  things  so,  though, 
when  we  went.  'T  was  one  of  Cook's  par 
ties,  you  know.  'T  wa  'n't  nice  a  bit.  But  I 
managed  to  see  everything  't  there  was  to  be 
seen.  I  always  do.  I  'm  a  splendid  trav 
eler." 

Wainwright's   curiosity   was    aroused   suffi 
ctently  for  him  to  feel  desirous  of  discovering 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  263 

whether  anybody  whose  conversation  betrayed 
such  slight  evidence  of  culture  could  be  a  lit 
erary  personage.  Accordingly  he  made  a  bold 
plunge,  and  said,  with  his  most  courteous 
manner,  — 

"  I  fear  that  my  long  residence  in  England 
has  proved  more  disastrous  to  me  than  I 
thought,  since  it  has  prevented  me  from  meet 
ing  with  any  of  your  published  works." 

This  was  certainly  an  audacious  step  ;  for 
allowing  that  he  had  the  right  to  believe  Mrs. 
Eleanor  Polhemus  Brown  celebrated,  from  the 
appreciative  solemnity  with  which  Mrs.  Bangs 
had  uttered  her  name,  he  still  had  no  reason 
to  take  for  granted,  after  this  daring  fashion, 
the  peculiar  nature  of  her  renown. 

"  Oh,  my  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brown,  with 
another  of  her  resonant  laughs,  followed  by 
the  singular  downward  drag  of  the  lip,  in 
self-conscious  after-thought.  "  I  only  write 
sketches,  and  things  like  that ;  I  have  n't  pub 
lished  any  books." 

"  Ah,"  said  Wainwright,  pleased  at  his  tri 
umph,  and  looking  politely  interested.  "  You 
have  then  won  your  present  reputation  entire- 
'>'  ty  j°urn  ilism  ?  " 


264  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEJSURE. 

"Oh,  yes,  —  quite  so,"  said  Mrs.  Brown 
fumbling  with  some  of  her  white  bugles,  in 
diffident  modesty.  Her  quick  tones  had  lost 
their  impetus.  She  was  less  attractive  in  her 
present  confused  state  than  she  had  been  be 
fore  it  came  over  her,  but  there  was  some 
thing  so  genuine  about  its  very  homeliness 
that  Wainwright  inwardly  blamed  himself  for 
having  covered  her  with  secret  ridicule.  "  I 
ain't  one  of  your  cultivated  writers ;  I  put 
down  my  thoughts  and  feelings  just  as  they 
come  to  me,  and  I  s'pose  a  good  deal  more 
feelings  come  than  thoughts.  I  never  knew  I 
could  write  at  all  till  a  few  years  ago,  when  I 
got  sending  scraps  every  once  in  a  while  to 
the  '  Rockingham  Tea-Caddy.'  It  seems  queer 
to  me  now,  when  I  think  't  I  should  be  a  reg 
ular  contributor,  on  a  weekly  salary,  to  the 
1  New  York  Napkin-Ring.'  " 

Wainwright  was  about  to  inquire  concerning 
the  character  of  the  journal  just  named,  when 
Mr.  Binghamton  suddenly  appeared  at  his 
side.  A  gentleman  also  joined  Mrs.  Brown, 
and  greeted  her.  Wainwright  observed  that 
this  gentleman  wore  his  hair,  which  was  un 
commonly  long,  tossed  off  his  brow  in  a  mane- 
Uke  mass. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  26$ 

"  I  begin  to  think  that  you  are  ubiquitous," 
he  said  to  the  Englishman,  as  they  shook 
hands. 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Binghamton,  in  that  remarkable 
stage-whisper  which  he  somehow  contrived  to. 
hide  away  under  his  stiff  little  moustache. 
"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  :  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  was 
to  bring  you." 

"  I  have  met  only  Mrs.  Eleanor  Polhemus 
Brown,  as  yet,"  murmured  Wainwright. 

"  I  saw  you  talking  with  her.  I  pitied  you, 
my  dear  boy.  I  came  to  your  rescue." 

"I  didn't  want  to  be  rescued.  I  think  hei 
very  remarkable.  She  astonishes  me." 

"Naturally." 

"  She  appears  to  be  a  very  sincere  person," 
continued  Wainwright.  "What  there  is  of 
her  has  the  ring  of  truth.  But  I  am  amazed 
that  she  should  be  a  literary  character." 

"Oh,  by  Jove  !  "  muttered  Mr.  Binghamton, 

with  a  surreptitious  grimace.      "  She  has  n't  a 

literary  hair  in  her  head.     You  ought  to  read 

some  of  her  stuff  in  the  '  Weekly  '  .  .  .  what 

s  it  ?   .   .  .   'Table-Scraper?'" 

"  No,  '  Napkin-Ring. 


266  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  Ah,  she  has  told  you  about  it,  has  she  ?  It 
is  the  worst  sort  of  rubbish.  It  is  supposed  to 
be  reformatory  and  all  that.  It  '  teaches/  you 
know,  and  is  full  of  '  cheerful  philosophy,'  as 
they  call  it.  And  then  the  writing  !  Such 
positively  devil-may-care  syntax  !  Verbs  that 
disagree  with  their  substantives  in  number  and 
person !  Adverbs  that  disqualify  verbs,  ad 
jectives,  and  other  ad  —  " 

"  Stop ! "  remonstrated  Wainwright.  "  She  '11 
hear  you.  She  has  looked  this  way  once  or 
twice  already.  " 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  asserted  Mr.  Binghamton, 
deep  down  in  his  throat.  "  I  must  explain  her 
to  you.  She  is  such  a  superb  subject  for  my 
expository  mania.  She  is  the  most  American 
of  American  products.  She  could  not  exist 
anywhere  out  of  this  country,  and  dare  to  call 
herself  literary.  Her  popularity  with  a  cer 
tain  class  is  unquestionable.  But  then  she 
has  no  more  business  to  write  than  she  has  to 
cry  and  build  a  house." 

Mrs.  Brown  here  turned  to  Mr.  Binghamton, 
and  put  out  her  hand  very  sociably.  "  I  hope 
you  ain't  quite  forgotten  me,"  she  said,  with 
her  explosive  laugh.  "  I  thought  I  'd  just  re- 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE-  26 / 

mind  you  't  we  were  toler'bly  well  acquainted, 
after  all." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Mrs.  Brown,"  said  Mr.  Bing- 
hamton,  with  the  most  courtly  bend  of  his 
small  figure,  "  I  was  only  watching  my  oppor 
tunity  to  present  myself.  And  meanwhile  I 
was  telling  Mr.  Wainwright,  here,  ail  about 
Low  famous  you  are." 

"  Oh,  good  gracious  !  "  exclaimed  the  lady, 
with  shy  exhilaration.  "  You  always  were  a 
dreadful  humbug.  Is  n't  he  a  humbug,  Mr. 
Large  ? " 

"  I  should  not  like  to  believe  so,"  said  the 
gentleman  with  the  long  hair. 

Mr.  Large,  to  whom  Wainwright  was  now 
introduced,  gave  him  a  vigorous  clasp  of  the 
hand.  He  had  an  athletic  frame,  a  massive 
head,  thick,  ruddy  features,  and  shining  dark 
^yes,  which  he  rolled  about  in  a  way  that  bore 
•a  sort  of  leonine  correspondence  with  his  co 
pious  mane  of  receding  hair.  He  was  per 
haps  thirty-five  years  old,  though  he  looked 
older  till  you  observed  the  freshness  of  his 
coloring. 

"  Mr.  Large  is  our  great  coming  poet,"  said 
Mr.  Binghamton  to  Wainwright,  with  deferen- 


268  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE, 

tial  emphasis.  "  He  is  founding  a  school  ot 
his  own." 

"  That  is  very  interesting  to  Lear,"  said 
Wainwright,  filling  up  a  pause. 

"  His  poems  are  perfectly  splendid,"  said 
Mrs.  Brown,  with  enough  gentle  rapture  to 
set  her  slim  curls  trembling.  "  I  reckon  I 
don't  understand  them  all,  though.  They  're 
too  grand.  Some  of  'em  almost  take  away 
a  body's  breath,  —  I  declare  if  they  don't  ! 
They  're  like  a  tempest." 

"  She  means  in  a  tea-pot,"  said  Mr.  Bing- 
hamton  to  Wainwright,  employing  one  of  his 
adroit  guttural  asides. 

"  But  then  some  are  so  hard  to  understand," 
continued  Mrs.  Brown,  with  a  look  toward  the 
subject  of  her  eulogy,  in  which  reproach  and 
admiration  were  coyly  mingled. 

Mr.  Large  cleared  his  throat.  It  appeared 
to  be  a  throat  that  could  not  undergo  this  proc 
ess  without  a  certain  magisterial  volume  of 
sound  resulting  from  the  effort.  "  I  am  a 
pioneer,  sir,"  he  said,  addressing  Wainwright. 
He  put  one  of  his  big,  well-shaped  hands  into 
the  front  of  his  close-buttoned  coat,  holding  it 
there  quite  concealed,  like  the  celebrated  peo- 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  269 

pie  in  antique  portraits.  "I  recognize  that 
there  is  a  great  work  before  me,"  he  continued, 
"and  I  am  going  to  do  it,  if  I  can,  in  a  manful, 
earnest,  honest  way." 

Wainwright  thought  this  was  a  rather  im 
pressive  mode  of  beginning  to  state  a  case, 
but  he  also  suspected  it  to  be  by  no  means 
lacking  in  self-confidence. 

"  Mr.  Large  is  writing  the  poetry  of  the 
future,"  said  Mr.  Binghamton. 

"And  pray,  what  is  the  poetry  of  the  fut 
ure  ?  "  asked  Wainwright,  with  a  civil  interrog 
ative  smile. 

Mr.  Large  answered  the  smile  with  one  of 
gracious  commiseration.  He  again  cleared 
his  throat,  of  which  a  good  deal  was  revealed 
to  view,  lifting  its  white,  solid  girth  above  an 
expansive  turned-down  collar  and  an  ample  cra 
vat  of  black  silk,  worn  with  loose  negligence, 
as  though  it  had  been  tied  in  a  strong  wind. 
"  The  poetry  of  the  future,  sir,"  he  replied, 
"  is  but  a  name  given  to  that  healthy  impulse 
which  would  sweep  away  the  rhyming  petti 
ness,  the  sickly  and  hectic  affectation,  the  ab 
surd  metrical  restrainments,  of  the  past." 

"  Mr.  Large,  you  see,  tumbles  over  all  the 


2/O  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

old  idols,'  said  Mr.  Binghamton  to  Wainwright. 
"  He  does  n't  believe  in  the  past  at  all  ;  do  you, 
Mr.  Large  ? " 

There  were  two  little  vertical  creases  above 
Mr.  Binghamton's  odd  nose,  and  a  kind  of  quiz 
zical  sobriety  all  over  his  small,  funny  face. 

"  I  abhor  the  past,"  said  Mr.  Large.  As  he 
spoke  he  passed  one  hand  along  the  dense 
backward  flow  of  his  hair,  as  if  to  see  that  it 
retained  the  proper  picturesque  disorder.  Pie 
would  probably  have  gone  on  speaking,  but 
just  then  a  young  man,  who  had  seated  him 
self  at  a  near  piano,  began  to  play,  and  a  uni 
versal  silence  fell  upon  the  company. 

The  young  man  at  the  piano  was  extremely 
slender.  His  locks,  which  were  of  a  whitish 
blond,  bristled  upward  from  his  head,  as  though 
some  acute  galvanic  shock  had  thus  disposed 
them.  He  played  with  extraordinary  energy, 
and  made  the  instrument  palpitate  under  the 
most  robust  volume  of  sound.  His  whole 
body  also  palpitated,  in  rhythmic  sympathy 
with  the  strains  which  he  evoked.  His  seat 
upon  the  piano-stool  appeared  to  exist  under 
conditions  of  painful  insecurity ;  one  might  al 
most  have  believed  that  the  surface  on  which 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2?  I 

ne  sat  had  been  heated  beyond  his  powers  of 
composed  endurance.  As  the  performance 
proceeded  the  frenzy  grew  more  vehement. 
You  would  have  said  that  its  method  involved 
a  destructive  motive  toward  the  instrument. 

"  Is  n't  it  horrible  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Binghamton. 
in  the  ear  of  Wainwright.  "  But  I  don't  know 
that  one  caricature  is  any  worse  than  the  other 
That  Large  fellow  is  my  special  abhorrence 
He,  too,  is  a  distinctively  American  creation. 
I  don't  mean  that  we  have  n't  vainglorious 
literary  frauds  in  England,  but  we  can't  boast 
of  anything  just  like  him." 

"  What  are  his  writings  like  ? "  inquired 
Wainwright. 

"  He  calls  them  democratic  chants.  They 
are  about  boundless  prairies  and  brotherly  love 
and  the  grand  coming  amelioration  of  human 
ity.  They  are  Carlyle  and  Emerson  jumbled 
up  together  in  wild  parody.  He  discards 
rhyme,  he  discards  metre,  he  insults  art.  Of 
course  he  has  a  little  worshiping  constituency  ; 
such  poseurs  always  do  have.  They  think  he 
is  a  mighty  organ-voice.  I  wonder  why  every 
thing  that  is  rhapsodical,  incoherent  and  bom- 
mastic  is  always  compared  to  an  oratorio  or  a 


2/2  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

church-organ.  I  advise  you  to  avoid  his  book. 
It  is  printed  at  the  author's  expense ;  its  name 
is  '  Earth-Clods  and  Starbeams.'  If  that  is 
to  be  the  poetry  of  the  future,  Heaven  have 
mercy  on  our  unborn  generations  !  " 

Not  long  afterward  the  gentleman  at  the 
piano  ceased  his  boisterous  calisthenics.  An 
other  interval  of  conversation  followed,  during 
which  Wainwright  permitted  Mr.  Binghamton 
to  take  him  by  the  arm  and  move  with  him 
among  new  groups  of  guests.  They  presently 
met  a  lady  whose  name  was  pronounced  to  be 
Mrs.  Lucia  Macintosh  Briggs,  —  every  lady- 
present  appeared  endowed  with  a  triple  name, 
—  and  whose  fair,  ethereal  face  expressed  the 
most  amiable  sweetness.  But  after  exchang 
ing  several  sentences  with  her,  Wainwright  dis 
covered  that  her  responses  were  framed  with 
great  bashfulness  and  under  the  most  stam 
mering  difficulty.  No  school-girl,  fresh  from 
*igid  disciplines,  could  have  shown  a  more  dis- 
t  -essing  embarrassment  or  a  more  pitiable  un 
certainty  of  phrase. 

"She's  the  cleverest  woman  in  the  room," 
Mr.  Binghamton  managed  to  tell  Wainwright 
as  the  latter  turned  to  him  with  placid  despair 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  273 

"  You  would  n't  believe  it,  but  she  is.  She 
can't  talk  ;  she  can't  even  think  without  a  pen 
in  her  hand.  But  her  tales  are  fought  for  by 
the  magazines.  She  has  the  most  enchanting 
style,  —  a  simplicity  and  self-restraint  that  are 
phenomenal  in  this  age  of  gorgeous  rhetoric." 

A  little  later  Wainwright  was  made  ac 
quainted  with  a  small,  nervous,  keen- eyed  gen 
tleman,  who  charmed  him  for  some  time  by 
a  very  brilliant  flow  of  talk.  He  had  rarely 
heard  a  more  delicious  blending  of  nimble 
wit  and  solid  wisdom.  He  seized  the  first 
chance  that  presented  itself  of  asking  Mr. 
Binghamton  whether  this  nonpareil  of  con 
versationalists  was  also  a  writer. 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  friend,  "and  a  most  mis 
erable  one.  There  you  have  the  antipodes  of 
Mrs.  Lucia  Macintosh  Briggs.  Not  one  of  his 
good  things  ever  by  chance  gets  into  his  dull, 
opaque  treatises.  He  thinks  he  can  write, — 
a  delusion  from  which  his  friends  are  some 
times  obliged  to  suffer  disastrously.  But  he 
can  only  talk  ;  his  pen  is  a  non-conductor." 

A  very  thin  young  lady,  with  high  cheek 
bones  and  a  pink  spot  on  each  of  them,  now 
«tood  beside  the  piano,  where  the  bristly-haired 
18 


2/4  A    GEN'ILEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

young  man  had  again  seated  himself,  and  sang 
to  his  accompaniment  a  ballad  which  had  a 
pretty  melody  and  might  have  been  otherwise 
agreeable,  but  for  the  incessant  repetition  of 
the  refrain,  —  "Be  still,  my  throbbing  heart, 
be  still  !  "  This  tuneful  request  was  made  by 
the  songstress  with  every  variety  of  posture, 
and  in  countless  different  keys.  When  she 
had  passionately  uttered  it  for  the  fifth  time 
in  rapid  succession,  and  you  felt  convinced 
that  you  were  to  hear  no  more  of  it,  she  would 
suddenly  moan  it  forth  with  pensive  andante 
effect,  while  her  accompanist,  who  had  previ 
ously  bounced  up  and  down  upon  his  piano- 
stool  with  fiery  sympathy,  would  then  rise  and 
fall  in  tender  alternations.  But  at  last  the 
j-oung  lady's  throbbing  heart  permanently 
ceased,  and  the  young  man  also  discontinued 
his  grotesque  behavior.  Wainwright  and  Mr. 
Binghamton  now  went  in  search  of  Mrs.  Van- 
derhoff.  They  found  her  in  the  society  of  a 
gentleman  who  looked  about  thirty  years  old, 
and  "had  a  drooping  brown  moustache  which 
seemed  to  harmonize  with  the  listless  inertia 
expressed  in  his  tall,  relaxed  figure  and  his 
somnolent  blue  eyes. 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2/5 

"  That  is  Hilliard,  to  whom  she  is  talking," 
said  Mr.  Binghamton,  while  they  paused  near 
Mrs.  Vanderhoff  and  her  present  devotee,  as 
yet  unobserved  by  either.  "  He  signs  himself 
T.  Rochester  Hilliard.  He  is  the  sworn  enemy 
of  our  friend  Large.  He  's  a  fervent  believer 
in  '  art  for  art's  sake,'  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
Pie  adores  the  past  just  as  violently  as  Mr. 
Large  detests  it.  He  shrinks  from  science 
and  modern  progress  as  hateful  iconoclasts. 
Did  n't  you  see  him  shudder  just  then  ?  He 
must  be  talking  on  those  odious  subjects.  I 
suspect  he  has  practiced  that  shudder  a  good 
deal  at  home,  before  a  mirror;  I  've  seen  him 
do  it  in  public  on  a  number  of  occasions.  His 
verses  are  so  mediaeval  that  you  feel,  after 
reading  them,  as  if  you  had  been  spending 
your  time  in  an  old  bric-a-brac  shop.  They 
are  full  of  such  words  as  'therewithal'  and 
'alway'  and  '  peradven-ture  '  and  '  eftsoons  '  ; 
they  are  about  ladies  with  meek  handmaidens 
and  trailing  draperies  and  calm  eyelids  (he  is 
very  fond  of  '  calm  eyelids '),  who  lean  out  of 
oriel  windows,  or  else  commit  indiscretions 
with  lute-playing  pages  in  arrased  chambers, 
vhile  their  good  lords  are  fighting  the  Paynim 


2/6  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

foe  afar.  He  was  born  of  honest,  respectable 
parents  in  New  Jersey,  but  he  would  n't  write 
of  anything  American  if  you  were  to  offer  him 
the  laureateship  of  the  United  States.  It 's 
astonishing  how  Large  reconciles  me  to  T. 
Rochester  Milliard,  and  vice  versa.  I  always 
treat  one  civilly  after  I  have  been  talking  with 
the  other.  They  are  both  such  absurd  extrem 
ists  that  they  react  upon  one  another." 

Wainwright  laughed.  "I  never  knew  you 
had  such  a  vein  of  cynicism,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  n't  think  that  I  swallow  half  your  unmer 
ciful  comments  on  Mrs.  Bangs's  literary  clien 
tele.  I  refuse  to  look  at  them  through  your 
spiteful  spectacles." 

"  Oh,  you  '11  want  to  borrow  my  spectacles," 
retorted  Mr.  Binghamton,  "  if  you  ever  under 
take  to  read  some  of  their  books." 

Mrs.  Vanderhoff  soon  afterward  discerned 
Wainwright,  and  told  him  that  she  desired  to 
be  taken  to  her  carriage  ;  the  hour  had  no 
doubt  arrived  when  that  vehicle  must  be  re 
turned  to  its  obliging  owner.  Wainwright  and 
Mr.  Binghamton  both  went  with  her  to  the 
carriage-door,  after  they  had  made  their  adieus 
to  Mrs.  Bangs  ;  it  had  been  arranged  that  they 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2/7 

should  depart  on  foot,  with  their  cigars.  Mrs. 
Vanderhoff  was  in  one  of  her  warmest  enthu 
siasms  as  they  bade  her  farewell. 

"  I  have  enjoyed  myself  so  much  !  "  she  de 
clared,  while  bustling  down  the  stoop  with  her 
upheld  skirts,  in  dowager  fashion.  "  I  always 
enjoy  Mrs.  Bangs's  evenings.  It  sharpens  one's 
wits  to  move  among  so  many  intellectual  celeb 
rities.  And  to  think  that  there  are  people 
who  assert  there  is  no  literary  society  in  dear 
New  York  !  "  .  .  . 

"  I  wonder  if  any  gathering  of  human  be 
ings  could  take  place  which  that  extraordinary 
woman  would  not  enjoy,"  said  Mr.  Bingham- 
ton,  as  he  and  Wainwright  walked  onward, 
after  Mrs.  Vanderhoff  had  been  borne  away 
in  her  friend's  elegant  equipage.  "  By  the  bye, 
my  dear  fellow,"  he  presently  continued,  break 
ing  a  brief  silence,  "  you  have  n't  asked  me 
about  the  result  of  that  affair  last  night  at  the 
club." 

"  I  had  forgotten  to  ask  you,"  returned 
Wainwright,  carelessly  enough. 

"  The  matter  is  making  a  great  stir." 

"  You  don't  tell  me  ?  Shall  I  be  ostracized 
rimong  the  upper  circles  ?  Or  shall  I  be  chal 
lenged  to  mortal  combat  ?  " 


378  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE, 

"  Neither.  You  will  find  some  adherents 
and  some  detractors.  Already  people  are  ar 
raying  themselves  for  and  against  your  cause. 
The  admirers  of  Gansevoort  think  you  behaved 
shockingly.  His  enemies  —  or  rather  those 
who  have  suffered  from  a  certain  arrogance 
which  he  sometimes  shows  toward  persons 
whom  he  dislikes  —  applaud  your  course,  and 
say  that  you  ought  to  be  thanked  for  putting 
down  an  offensive  snob.  Of  course  Ganse 
voort  and  the  small  clique  who  witnessed  the 
affair  vent  their  spleen  in  hard  terms.  There 
was  actually  a  little  talk  of  a  challenge  last 
night,  after  you  left.  But  that  blew  over,  nec 
essarily." 

The  two  men  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  few 
moments.  Mr.  Binghamton  was  evidently  wait 
ing  for  some  answer  from  Wainwright  which 
should  bear  upon  the  subject  that  he  had 
broached  ;  but  presently  his  companion  rather 
surprised  him  by  saying,  — 

"  Tell  me,  Binghamton,  do  you  know  any 
thing  of  Townsend  Spring's  financial  affairs 
just  now  ?  " 

"  Only  what  rumor  brings  me,"  replied  the 
Englishman.  "  The  market  in  Wall  Street  has 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  279 

oeen  playing  some  very  queer  tricks  of  late, 
and  Spring  seems  to  be  among  the  speculators 
who  are  liable  any  day  to  a  very  serious  tum 
ble.  God  help  him  and  those  three  women,  if 
he  goes  to  smash  this  time  !  He  's  been  put 
on  his  legs  by  friends  so  often  before  that 
there  's  nobody  left,  I  'm  afraid,  if  he  should 
come  to  grief  now."  .  .  . 

These  words,  spoken  half  at  random,  dwelt 
with  Wainwright  long  after  he  had  parted  from 
Mr.  Binghamton  that  night.  They  got  into 
his  pillow  and  murdered  sleep.  He  had  no 
memory  for  the  eccentricities  of  Mrs.  Bangs's 
guests  ;  he  failed  to  remember  that  the  recent 
event  at  the  club  had  made  him  food  for  an 
tagonistic  comments.  He  thought  only  of  an 
unhappy  girl,  hesitating  before  an  act  of  thrill 
ing  sacrifice.  And  mingled  with  the  vision  of 
her  pale,  troubled  face,  mingled  with  the  warm 
sentiment  of  his  own  deep  pity,  something 
closely  like  self-contempt  found  a  way  to  sting 
and  chafe  him,  dealing  hurts  all  the  harsher 
because  he  again  and  again  kept  telling  his  own 
spirit  that  they  were  dealt  against  a  resistant 
force  of  which  honest  self-respect  formed  the 
jne  vital  origin. 


XV. 

E  went  to  the  Springs'  house  early  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  asking 
simply  for  Ruth  of  the  servant  who 
admitted  him.  He  had  made  a  certain  distinct 
resolve,  which  he  was  firmly  bent  upon  carry 
ing  out.  It  was  now  very  clear  to  him  that  he 
could  never  ask  Ruth  Cheever  to  become  his 
wife.  He  felt  that  the  struggle  had  begun  and 
ended.  It  had  been  short,  but  hard.  "  I  shall 
never  marry  any  other  woman,"  he  told  him 
self  ;  "  but  I  shall  not  marry  her.  It  is  de 
cided." 

In  the  conflict  through  which  he  had  passed 
Wainwright  had  seemed  to  himself  like  a  phy 
sician  making  a  cool  diagnosis  of  his  own  mal 
ady.  He  had  put  his  hand,  so  to  speak,  on 
the  throbbing  arteries  of  his  passion,  and  had 
calmly  counted  their  strokes.  In  one  sense 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  28 1 

ne  had  been  very  deliberating,  but  the  deliber 
ation  had  been  wrung  from  a  pain  whose  un 
controlled  impetus  might  have  pushed  him  to 
the  desperate  surrender  of  all  reflection.  And 
the  longer  this  introspective  process  lasted  the 
more  he  had  become  convinced  that  his  love 
fought  against  no  merely  selfish  pride.  If  a 
worldly  element  entered  into  his  reluctance,  it 
was  not  one  of  captious  fastidiousness.  He  had 
made  imagination  help  reason  in  outlining  the 
possibilities  which  would  wait  upon  such  a 
union.  He  had  a  very  lofty  view  of  marriage  ; 
for  years  he  had  clothed  it,  as  regarded  his  own 
future,  with  a  fine  idealism.  He  felt  that,  how 
ever  pure  were  Ruth  herself,  the  surroundings 
from  which  he  might  take  her  would  be  those 
held  by  him  as  despicable ;  and  he  doubted  his 
own  power,  in  the  years  which  would  follow, 
always  to  forget  from  what  soil  he  had  plucked 
even  so  stainless  a  bloom.  It  would  no  longer 
be  possible  for  him  to  live  permanently  away 
from  his  native  country.  He  had  learned  to 
love  that  country,  to  identify  it  with  the  first 
earnest  and  wholesome  interests  of  his  life,  and 
to  desire  to  serve  it  hereafter  as  worthily  as 
4is  best  energies  would  permit  If  he  married 


282  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Ruth,  no  sea  could  roll  between  her  and  the 
kindred  among  whom  he  had  found  her. 
Their  presence  would  remain,  and  he  had 
finally  assured  himself  that  their  presence 
must  be  a  perpetual  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  all 
matrimonial  harmony. 

Thus  Wainwright  had  decided,  for  thus  it 
had  been  the  effect  of  past  environments  upon 
a  man  of  just  his  nature  inevitably  to  decide. 
But  the  resolve  which  he  had  now  made  was 
full  of  a  generously  helpful  longing  ;  he 
wanted  to  place  her  beyond  the  necessity  of 
marrying  Mr.  Amsterdam,  —  a  contingency 
that  dismayed  him,  as  something  hideous  and 
sacrilegious. 

Ruth  was  in  the  reception-room  as  he  en 
tered  it.  A  gentleman  was  seated  beside  her, 
having  his  back  turned  to  the  door-way.  Ruth 
could  see  Wainwright  the  moment  that  he  ap 
peared  on  the  threshold,  her  face  being  in  his 
direction.  The  fire  on  the  hearth  was  wreath 
ing  itself  about  a  solid  plinth  of  coal.  In 
the  interspace  between  two  rich-dyed  Persian 
rugs,  on  the  polished  wooden  floor,  lay  a 
square  of  winter  sunshine.  By  an  odd  effect, 
the  light  from  a  near  window  had  flung  the 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  283 

shadow  on  the  gentleman  who  sat  near  Ruth, 
directly  before  her,  in  dark  distinctness.  The 
latter,  following  her  look,  turned,  and  revealed 
himself  to  be  Mr.  Abernethy.  He  rose  and 
shook  hands  with  Wainwright,  who  observed 
upon  his  swarthy  face  a  discomposure  unlikn 
the  furtive  smile  which  usually  seemed  to 
sleep  under  its  copious  black  moustache. 
Ruth  appeared  more  worn  than  when  he  had 
left  her  last  evening  ;  her  eyes  had  got  dusky 
lines  beneath  them,  and  this  made  her  con 
tinued  pallor  more  evident ;  but  she  looked 
perfectly  tranquil,  and  greeted  the  new-comer 
with  gracious  repose. 

Wainwright  had  not  been  in  the  room  five 
minutes,  however,  before  he  became  conscious 
that  the  air  was  charged  with  some  sort  of 
hostility.  Mr.  Abernethy  kept  his  black 
eyes  fixed  on  the  fire,  occasionally  thrusting 
a  few  words  into  the  conversation  between 
Ruth  and  Wainwright,  as  if  spurred  to  do  so 
I  y  a  sense  of  his  own  taciturnity.  The  result 
of  this  spasmodic  process  was  most  awkward 
and  artificial. 

"  You've  been  creating  quite  a  sensation  at 
Ihe  Metropolitan,"  he  suddenly  said  to  Wain- 


284  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

wright,  breaking  a  little  term  of  silence,  dur 
ing  which  the  latter  had  indulged  in  a  mute 
hope  that  he  would  go. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  replied  Wainwright ; 
'  I  dislike  sensations  exceedingly,  and  to  be 
he  subject  of  one  is  very  disagreeable." 

'  Upon  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Abernethy, 
witn  a  laugh  he  had  that  always  seemed  fur 
ther  down  in  his  throat  than  it  ought  to  be, 
and  like  a  sneer  somehow  put  into  sound, 
"I'm  glad  you  snubbed  that  insupportable 
Gansevoort.  He  deserved  snubbing.  I  've 
often  thought  I  'd  try  it  myself ;  but  then 
those  things  are  such  bores." 

"  I  did  not  find  it  a  bore,"  said  Wainwright. 
"I  think,  indeed,  that  I  rather  enjoyed  it 
while  it  lasted.  I  confess  to  finding  satisfac 
tion  in  rapping  people's  toes  when  they  over 
step  proper  social  boundaries." 

He  contrived  to  throw  the  least  suspicion 
of  sarcastic  personality  'into  his  last  words, 
and  involuntarily,  after  speaking  them,  his  eyes 
met  Ruth's.  Mr.  Abernethy  did  not  start, 
but  he  looked  for  an  instant  like  a  man  who 
has  restrained  himself  from  starting. 

"  You  '11   become  very  unpopular,"  he  said, 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  285 

"  if  you  go  in  much  for  that  style  of  reform." 
There  seemed  to  be  a  vague  hint  of  sullenness 
in  his  tones  as  he  added,  "  Here  in  America 
I'm  afraid  we  don't  relish  being  told  too 
plainly  of  our  faults." 

"  That  antipathy  is  common  to  all  nations, 
and  nearly  all  individuals,"  said  Wainwright. 
His  manner  was  entirely  civil  ;  he  was  still 
looking  at  Ruth.  She  had  colored  a  little  ; 
he  wondered  why. 

"  I  heard  of  the  matter,"  she  said,  quietly. 
"  But  I  have  no  doubt  that  report  put  words 
into  your  mouth,  Mr.  Wainwright,  which  you 
never  spoke.  The  snow-ball  must  have  grown 
very  large,  even  in  this  short  time." 

"  Please  believe  that  /didn't  set  it  rolling," 
said  Wainwright,  good-naturedly.  "  I  will  tell 
you  just  what  happened."  .  .  .  And  he  pro 
ceeded  to  relate  the  whole  circumstance  with 
a  close  adherence  to  facts.  Mr.  Abernethy  sat 
staring  at  the  fire  while  he  spoke  ;  occasion 
ally  he  drummed  with  the  fingers  of  one  hand 
on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  He  had  extremely 
handsome  hands ;  many  ladies,  in  past  times, 
had  declared  that  they  were  one  of  his  "  fas 
cinations;"  the  tapering  olive  fingers  ended 


286  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

in  pink,  rounded  nails,  as  glossy  as  burnished 
agate.  Neither  Wainwright  nor  Ruth  took 
any  note  of  his  face  ;  if  they  had  done  so  they 
might  have  fancied  that  it  resembled  the  face 
of  a  person  who  is  slowly  but  steadily  making 
up  his  mind. 

As  Wainwright  finished  Mr.  Abernethy 
raised  his  eyes.  He  turned  them  upon  Ruth. 
It  is  possible  that  the  girl  saw  in  them  a  cold, 
determined  defiance. 

"  Pray,  Miss  Ruth,"  he  said,  very  smoothly, 
yet  with  emphasis,  "  am  I  not  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  Miss  Lyddy  this  morn- 
ing?" 

Ruth  bit  her  lip  for  a  moment.  But  she 
returned  the  speaker's  gaze  with  a  peculiar, 
unflinching  fixity.  "  No,  Mr.  Abernethy,"  she 
replied.  "  I  think  I  told  you,  before  Mr.  Wain 
wright  entered,  that  you  could  not  see  Lyd- 
dy." 

"  If  I  remember  correctly,  you  said  that  she 
was  at  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Ruth,  "  she  is  at  home." 

There  was  a  silence.  Mr.  Abernethy  drew 
his  chair  closer  toward  the  fire,  and  spread  his 
hands  out  before  its  blaze,  as  if  desirous  of 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  287 

warming  them.  While  still  in  a  leaning  pos 
ture,  he  again  turned  toward  Ruth,  saying,  — 

"  It  can't  be  possible  that  she  or  you  may 
want  to  treat  me  rudely  ?  " 

Ruth  rose.  There  was  a  flash  in  her  eyes, 
and  her  lips  were  trembling  ;  she  looked  in 
dignant,  and  when  she  spoke  there  were  vi 
brant  traces  of  anger  in  her  voice. 

"  I  don't  know  what  your  purpose  can  be," 
she  exclaimed,  looking  directly  at  the  stooped 
figure  before  the  fire-place,  "  unless  it  is  to 
make  me  repeat  the  words  I  said  a  short  while 
ago  !  They  were  very  disagreeable  words  ;  I 
did  not  at  all  like  to  utter  them,  and  I  should 
not  like  to  repeat  them." 

Mr.  Abernethy  slowly  rose.  Wainwright, 
who  had  also  risen,  out  of  deference  to  Ruth, 
was  at  no  loss  thoroughly  to  divine  the  sit 
uation.  Mr.  Abernethy  showed  a  sort  of 
sinister  embarrassment  ;  he  had  tried  to  em 
ploy  a  malicious  stratagem,  and  had  failed  ;  he 
had  found  his  match  in  Ruth,  and  the  discov 
ery  demoralized  him  ;  every  trace  of  his  ef 
frontery  had  fled.  He  was  a  person  who  had 
a  rather  well-won  reputation  for  good  man 
ners,  in  the  superficial  significance  of  that 


288  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

term  ;  a  number  of  his  feminine  admirers  were 
wont  to  say  that  he  never  "forgot  himself." 

He  did  not  forget  himself  now.  He  seemed 
lo  conquer  his  confusion  while  walking  slowly 
across  the  room  and  pausing  at  the  door-way. 
A  smile  had  by  this  time  lighted  his  dark  feat 
ures,  leaving  a  little  gleam  of  white  teeth  under 
his  black  moustache. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said,  quite  softly,  ad 
dressing  Ruth,  "  that  you  should  feel  it  neces 
sary  to  break,  in  my  case,  the  rules  of  hospi 
tality  ;  for  you  are  a  lady  to  whom  I  have 
always  firmly  believed  that  such  rules  must  be 
sacred."  He  then  addressed  Wainwright,  and 
without  raising  his  voice  managed  to  show  an 
intonation  of  really  piercing  satire.  "Most 
men,"  he  continued,  "  are  apt  to  neglecj;  good- 
breeding  when  treated  uncivilly,  even  if  the  of 
fender  be  a  woman  ;  but  I  have  been  fortunate, 
perhaps,  in  having  felt  the  near  example  of 
one  who  has  gained  so  wide  a  reputation  as 
a  teacher  of  etiquette."  Pie  bowed,  murmured 
"  Good-morning,"  and  disappeared  into  the 
outer  hall.  It  was  really  a  very  effective  de 
parture  ;  it  could  not  have  been  better  con 
ducted  by  the  most  accomplished  comedian  o4 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2$() 

the  genteel,  modern,  undramatic  school.  He 
had  glided  out  of  an  almost  pitiable  strait  with 
the  dexterity  of  exceptional  cleverness.  The 
whole  proceeding  struck  Wainwright  as  so 
ready  and  supple  that  he  realized  clearly,  in 
that  brief  interval,  what  power  of  danger  might 
consort  with  such  skilled  and  parrying  self- 
possession.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  between 
Wainwright  and  Ruth  until  they  heard  the  hall- 
door  outside  sharply  close,  and  were  sure  that 
Mr.  Abernethy  had  gone.  Then  Wainwright 
exclaimed,  louder  than  he  perhaps  knew,  "  I 
understand  just  what  that  man  was  aiming  for! 
And  you  defeated  him  most  valiantly.  I  con 
gratulate  you." 

"He  has  not  made  me  very  angry,"  said 
Ruth,  with  a  momentary  choked  sound  in  her 
voice.  She  sank  into  a  chair,  giving  a  slight 
laugh  that  was  almost  hysterical.  "  Perhaps 
he  might  have  conquered  me,"  she  went  on, 
"if  you  had  not  already  heard  just  how  affairs 
stood." 

"  I  used  my  knowledge,"  replied  Wain 
wright.  "  I  put  two  and  two  together.  You 
had  been  giving  him  his  congty  in  downright 
fashion,  just  before  I  arrived." 


2QO  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"Yes.  I  have  so  wanted  to  save  poor  fool 
ish  Lyddy,  as  you  know.  Yesterday  I  found 
that  a  new  power  had  been  put  into  my  hands. 
Fanny,  utterly  alarmed  and  wretched,  has  be 
gun  to  lean  on  me  in  the  most  supine  way  ever 
since  "...  She  paused  here,  and  again  her 
color  rose  a  little.  "  Well,"  she  continued, 
with  odd  haste,  "  ever  since  I  made  her  a  cer 
tain  promise.  And  so,  invested  with  my  new 
authority,  I  used  it.  I  told  her  how  the  world 
must  already  be  talking  of  Lyddy  and  that 
man's  perilous  addresses  to  the  child.  Fanny 
listened  ;  she  did  not  toss  her  head  and  call 
me  a  stupid  prude  ;  she  actually  made  herself 
my  ally,  instead.  We  attacked  Lyddy  together. 
Fanny  seconded  all  my  grim  admonitions.  It 
was  arranged  that  I  should  see  Mr.  Abernethy 
when  he  next  called.  That  was  to-day.  I  faced 
the  enemy  alone,  as  bravely  as  I  could.  He 
was  very  insolent  and  very  gentlemanly,  if  you 
can  understand  how  those  two  traits  may  be 
combined." 

"  I  can  —  after  what  I  have  just  seen." 
"  Well,  I  thought  the  battle  was  fought  when 
you  appeared.     I  fancy  that  he  thought  so,  too. 
It  had  been  made  very  clear  to  him  that  he 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  29 1 

inust  come  here  no  more,  and  that  Lyddy  her 
self  had  so  desired.  But  he  sought  to  steal  a 
march  upon  me,  — to  spike  my  guns,  —  using 
your  unexpected  presence  as  a  means  toward 
that  end." 

"  He  is  a  shocking  fellow,  and  I  want  to 
hear  no  more  about  him,"  said  Wainwright, 
after  a  silence  had  fallen  between  them.  "  I 
want  to  hear  of  something  else,"  he  added, 
measuredly. 

"  Of  what  else  ?  "  said  Ruth,  lifting  her  eyes 
to  his  face. 

"  Of  your  promise  to  your  sister.  Will  you 
let  me  ask  you  what  that  was  ?  " 

Ruth  started,  changing  color  most  notice 
ably.  "  I  would  rather  not  tell  you,"  she  said, 
in  a  low  voice.  "  My  telling  you  can  do  no 
good.  It  cannot  alter  matters." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  said  Wainwright,  with  an 
imperative  directness,  "that  you  have  prom 
ised  Mrs.  Spring  to  become  the  wife  of  Mr. 
Amsterdam  ?  " 

Ruth  sat  now  with  drooped  eyes.  "  Yes,  1 
do  mean  that,"  she  at  length  murmured.  She 
was  making  little  creases  with  both  hands 
in  the  front  folds  of  her  dress. 


29 2  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Wainwright  felt  a  kind  of  inward  tremor 
Several  different  responses  rushed  to  his  lips 
but  he  kept  them  all  back,  and  quietly  pon 
dered,  during  the  silence  that  ensued,  what  it 
would  be  best  to  say.  What  he  presently  did 
say  was  this  :  — 

"  Now  I  want  you  to  make  me  a  promise." 
Before  she  could  answer  him  he  rose  from 
the    seat    opposite    her,  which    he   had    lately 
taken,  and  went  up  to  where  she  sat,  with  his 
right  hand  outstretched. 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  you  will  not 
accept  Mr.  Amsterdam  for  three  days." 

As  she  again  looked  up  at  him  he  felt  the 
stab  of  a  misgiving  lest  she  had  already  writ 
ten  or  spoken  to  her  suitor,  and  the  bond  he 
required  was  therefore  impossible.  But  her 
answer  dissipated  this  gloomy  doubt. 

"I  see  no  reason,"  she  said,  "why  I  should 
make  this  promise  to  you,  Mr.  Wainwright." 

"  But  /  do.  I  see  a  most  excellent  reason. 
Won't  you  take  my  hand  and  promise  ?  A 
little  delay  can  do  no  harm." 

She  saw  entreaty  on  his  face ;  she  heard  it 
in  his  tones.  She  gave  him  her  hand,  rising. 
"Very  well,"  she  said.  But  suddenly  she 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  293 

withdrew  her  hand,  though  he  retained  it  al 
most  with  force.  "  Oh,  why,"  she  exclaimed, 
plaintively,  while  a  bitter  distress  clouded  her 
face,  —  "  why  need  I  postpone  this  wretched 
compact  ?  It  must  be  made  now,  and  it  had 
best  be  made  while  I  have  steeled  my  nerves, 
rallied  my  courage.  I  don't  know  what  may 
happen  to  me  in  those  three  days.  I  am  sorry 
that  I  made  you  this  promise.  Let  me  take  it 
back." 

Ruth  spoke  with  random  heat.  Her  look 
was  full  of  misery ;  it  wrung  Wainwright  to 
the  heart.  She  had  receded  many  paces  away 
from  him,  but  he  again  hurried  to  her  side. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  cried,  "  when  you  say 
that  you  don't  know  what  may  happen  in 
those  three  days  !  You  don't  know  what  help 
may  come  to  you.  I  am  going  to  try  and 
help  you.  I  shall  try  my  best." 

"  You  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  Yes."  He  caught  her  hand  once  more. 
He  pressed  it  hard,  but  the  pressure  lasted 
only  an  instant.  Then  he  walked  rapidly  to 
tJie  door,  and  as  he  turned,  on  reaching  its 
threshold,  he  saw  her  standing  by  the  fi re- 
dace,  staring  after  him  with  a  bewildered 
gaze. 


2Q4  A    GENT1EMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

He  would  have  told  her  more,  but  he  felt 
that  he  was  himself  only  too  ignorant  of  what 
it  might  be  possible  for  him  to  do.  And  he 
dared  not  kindle  in  her  breast  any  full  flame  of 
hope.  As  yet  he  had  the  right  only  to  set  a 
feeble  spark  there. 


XVI. 

N  the  former  days  of  Wall  Street, 
nearly  a  score  of  years  ago,  when  war 
held  the  fate  of  our  nation  in  its 
bloody  balance,  and  the  price  of  gold  vibrated 
with  heavy  changes  almost  hourly,  the  fever 
of  speculation  passed  all  limits.  Then  it  was 
not  a  rare  thing  for  brokers  to  earn  from  eight 
hundred  to  ten  thousand  dollars  a  day  in  com 
missions.  More  than  a  hundred  millions  were 
realized  in  sales.  New  York  never  wore  so 
opulent  and  festal  an  aspect.  Luxurious  car 
riages  rolled  through  the  Park;  Delmonico's 
best  resources  were  taxed  in  the  giving  of  artis 
tic  dinners  ;  the  city  showed  a  ceaseless  variety 
of  balls  and  receptions  The  mania  of  specula 
tion  raged  in  all  departments  of  life.  Brokers' 
offices  were  crowded  with  customers  ;  the 
derk  invested  his  precious  salary ;  the  old 


296  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

man  staked  his  slender  annuity ;  the  widow 
risked  her  all.  Then  darker  times  followed: 
heavy  defalcations  convulsed  the  Street ;  periods 
of  comparative  quiet  were  succeeded  by  stormy 
episodes.  Government,  through  the  sudden 
sales  of  millions,  wrought  havoc  and  dismay. 
The  prices  of  bullion  strangely  vacillated  ; 
loans  would  abruptly  go  up  and  stocks  would 
fall  with  a  crash.  Then  came  three  years  of 
dull  monotony  in  the  market,  and  at  last  the 
disastrous  horrors  of  Black  Friday.  For  some 
time  previous  to  this  woful  event,  an  ap 
proaching  tempest  had  been  observable,  and 
there  had  been  evidences  of  a  formidable 
clique  movement.  The  clearances  of  the  Gold 
Exchange  Bank  had  markedly  increased.  A 
large  number  of  operators  attempted  to  pull 
down  gold,  but  its  price  rose  with  startling 
speed.  The  indomitable  "men  of  Erie,"  writh 
the  fearless,  insolent,  and  astute  James  Fisk 
at  their  head,  were  hotly  at  work.  In  one 
morning  gold  shot  from  145  to  162^.  Fisk's 
life  was  threatened.  Men  saw  their  last  dol 
lars  disappearing  in  the  turbid  whirlpool  of 
that  frightful  complication.  New  York  Cen 
tral,  Hudson,  Pittsburg,  and  Northwest  shares 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  2<)J 

fell  at  a  ruinous  rate.  The  dread  of  yet  higher 
prices  in  gold  produced  a  universal  agony. 
Faces  pale  with  despair  gleamed  from  win- 
dovvs  and  along  pavements  ;  one  young  broker, 
whose  losses  had  been  enormous,  was  carried 
home  almost  lifeless  from  the  bursting  of  an 
artery.  In  this  hour,  too,  when  everybody's 
credit  was  suspected  by  his  neighbor,  old  ani 
mosities  leapt  up  and  dealt  hidden  blows.  It 
was  a  time  of  anarchy,  chaos,  unexampled  sus 
pense.  The  stanchest  men  now  recall  Black 
Friday  with  a  shudder,  and  many  will  have  the 
most  solemn  reasons  for  remembering  it  to  the 
close  of  their  lives. 

These  calamitous  days  are  now  past ;  peace 
has  brought  its  quieter  victories  ;  but  Wall 
Street  still  remains  a  prodigious  fact.  It 
speaks  volumes  to  the  thoughtful  looker-on.  It 
is  our  social  boiling-point,  at  which  those  fierce 
forces,  wrestling  beneath  our  surface,  find  a 
continuous  wrathful  vent.  Being  the  direct 
result  of  our  imprudent  modes  of  living,  our 
tendency  to  pluck  the  fruits  of  all  circum 
stance  before  they  have  come  to  ripeness,  it 
now  offers  a  constant  intoxicating  temptation 
to  many  of  our  best  minds,  as  these  enter,  year 


298  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

after  year,  upon  the  fight  of  life,  vitiating  and 
perverting  that  which  a  healthful  serenity  of 
occupation  might  have  developed  into  valuable 
and  brilliant  maturity.  As  in  all  similar  cases, 
the  love  for  this  sort  of  gaming  grows  with 
what  it  feeds  upon.  Ordinary  commercial 
dealings  would  be  tame  indeed  to  those  who 
have  tasted  these  thrilling  excitements.  Even 
the  jeopardies  of  a  military  career  could  not 
prove  their  fitting  substitute,  with  its  intervals 
of  tedium,  its  dreary  fatigues,  and  its  neces 
sity  for  mechanical  discipline.  Nevertheless, 
if  speculation  be  a  disease,  the  disease  is  one 
worthy  of  close  attention.  Its  workings  cer 
tainly  possess  a  morbid  harmony  by  no  means 
beneath  the  study  of  the  analyst.  The  fatal 
effects  of  this  overstrained  life  can  be  told  by 
the  dark  experiences  of  many  a  physician.  Slow 
and  noiseless  are  the  casualties  resulting  from 
it  ;  but  victims  are  forever  falling  in  this  fight  of 
tense-strung  nerves  and  rivalry-spurred  brains. 
A  mere  walk  through  the  streets  thus  devoted 
to  the  ceaseless  struggles  of  gamester  against 
gamester  will  impress  one,  whose  scrutiny  is 
on  the  alert,  with  a  sense  of  some  new  malarial 
atmosphere.  Those  whom  we  meet  often  have 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  299 

a  restless,  disquieted  step.  If  one  of  them  be 
an  acquaintance,  and  we  pause  to  greet  him, 
the  chances  are  that  he  will  salute  us  with  an 
absent,  flurried  demeanor.  We  are  not  of  his 
hazardous  and  combative  world  ;  we  belong 
among  the  more  tranquil  dwellers  of  earth  ;  we 
have  not  been  inoculated  with  his  own  goad 
ing  distemper ;  we  are  mere  lookers-on  in 
Vienna,  and  Vienna  has  something  better  to 
do  than  concern  itself  with  our  humdrum  neu 
trality. 

Wainwright  was  filled  with  impressions  more 
or  less  of  this  sort  as  he  passed  through  a  cer 
tain  portion  of  Wall  Street  on  the  day  that  fol 
lowed  his  last  interview  with  Ruth.  He  had 
made  an  effort,  during  the  previous  afternoon 
and  evening,  to  see  Townsend  Spring  ;  but 
two  separate  searches  for  this  gentleman  at  the 
Metropolitan  Club  had  proved  equally  futile 
He  had  learned  Spring's  business  address  late 
the  night  before,  and  was  now  making  practi 
cal  use  of  this  knowledge.  It  was  a  little  after 
eleven  o'clock  when  he  entered  a  small  office, 
where  two  clerks  sat  at  two  desks,  and  a 
shabby,  grisly  man,  in  an  overcoat  that  wanted 
several  important  buttons,  stood  cleaning  his 


300  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

nails  with  a  dingy  penknife.  One  of  the 
clerks,  a  thin,  pale  stripling,  with  an  ink-spot 
on  his  cheek  that  made  him  look  thinner  and 
paler,  answered  Wainwright's  inquiry  for  Mr. 
Spring,  stating  that  the  latter  was  at  present 
in  the  Board.  Wainwright  politely  asked 
where  the  "  Board  "  could  be  found,  and  was 
immediately  favored  with  a  hard  stare  from  the 
other  clerk,  who  wore  a  dapper  cravat  in  the 
shape  of  a  large  butterfly,  and  had  a  head  of 
short,  close  curls  parted  accurately  in  the  mid 
dle.  Then  the  two  clerks  momentarily  gazed 
at  each  other,  as  though  this  distressing  be 
trayal  of  ignorance  was  something  very  un 
usual  in  the  experience  of  both.  Presently  the 
stripling  with  the  ink-spot  gave  Wainwright 
the  necessary  instructions,  and  he  departed  in 
search  of  the  Stock  Exchange. 

Not  very  long  after  this,  he  stood  at  a  door 
way  opening  directly  off  a  narrow  street,  and 
requested  a  porter  on  guard  at  its  entrance  to 
bring  him  where  he  could  speak  with  Mr. 
Spring.  But  before  the  words  had  passed  his 
lips  he  became  aware  that  a  wild  tumult  was 
taking  place  in  an  immense  chamber  beyond. 
Hundreds  of  voices  seemed  shrieking  in  furi 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  301 

ous  concert,  and  he  had  a  vision  of  number 
less  male  figures  pressed  together  like  an  in 
surgent  mob,  and  lifting  their  arms  in  savage 
gesticulation.  The  porter,  a  stolid  and  impas 
sive  personage,  shook  his  head,  and  declared  to 
Wainwright  in  brief,  civil  terms  that  he  must 
"  go  up-stairs."  Wainwright  went  up-stairs, 
wondering.  He  soon  found  himself  in  a  gal 
lery  overlooking  the  mad  turmoil  of  forms  and 
voices.  Now  and  then  one  shrill,  querulous 
cry  would  rise  above  the  prevailing  bedlam, 
only  to  be  drowned,  a  second  later,  by  that  of 
some  more  stentorian  shouter.  The  uproar 
and  the  insane  gestures  accompanying  it  were 
partly  directed  toward  a  sort  of  presidential 
rostrum,  where  sat  a  gentleman,  who  gazed 
down  upon  all  this  turbulence  with  the  un 
moved  calm  of  a  sphinx,  now  and  then  making 
raps  with  a  gavel.  By  degrees  Wainwright 
grew  accustomed  to  the  noisy  throng  ;  he  sep 
arated  one  individuality  from  another  ;  here 
and  there  he  recognized  the  face  of  an  ac 
quaintance.  But  there  were  many  whom  he 
did  .not  recognize,  and  among  the  excited  bid 
ders  he  began  to  observe  all  varieties  of  visage, 
the  indices  of  countless  differing  tempera- 


302  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

ments.  Yonder  was  the  fresh-cheeked,  beard 
less  youth,  whom  fate  had  snatched  from  the 
competitions  of  the  college  curriculum  to  waste 
his  adolescence  in  these  far  more  unwhole 
some  contests,  and  make  him  old  and  jaded 
long  before  his  time.  Here  was  the  shrewd- 
eyed,  sallow  operator,  veteran  of  unnumbered 
financial  frays,  weary  to  the  bone  of  this  end 
less  contention,  yet  remaining  in  it  with  some 
thing  of  that  doleful  pertinacity  which  makes 
the  victim  of  opium  still  cleave  to  his  perni 
cious  drug.  Here  was  the  stout,  oleaginous 
vulgarian,  bejeweled,  glaringly  dapper,  with 
voluminous  moustache,  and  trousers  an  extrav 
agant  plaid.  Here  was  the  decorous  club-man, 
genteel  to  his  finger-tips,  a  marvel  of  good 
style.  Here  rose  some  grimy,  red-lipped  Abra 
ham  Isaacs,  in  whom  the  usual  prudence  of 
his  race  had  been  conquered,  perhaps,  by  a 
longing  rapidly  to  amass  thousands.  And 
nearly  all  were  yelling  with  an  awful,  strident 
volubility.  Many,  too,  were  using  gestures 
that  would  not  have  looked  amiss  among  the 
nimble  habitants  of  a  far-away  cocoa  grove. 

Naturally,  Wainwright  sought  for  Town  send 
Spring'?  face  amid   Che  multitude.     For  some 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  303 

time  he  was  unsuccessful  in  discovering  the 
man  whom  he  had  come  hither  to  meet  But 
at  length,  happening  to  cast  his  eyes  into  a 
certain  corner  of  the  huge  apartment,  where 
several  men  were  standing  in  apparently  brisk 
converse  that  bore  no  seeming  relation  to  the 
clamors  going  on  so  near  them,  he  perceived 
the  object  of  his  search.  Spring  had  thrust 
both  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  wore  a  smile 
of  broad  good-humor.  He  was  speaking,  as  if 
looked,  with  jovial  vehemence.  Now  and  then 
he  burst  into  a  laugh,  and  bent  his  body  for 
ward,  as  he  did  so,  with  lively  mirth.  Wain- 
wright  was  astonished  at  these  evidences  of 
light-heartedness,  but  found  a  ready  explana 
tion  of  them  in  the  reckless,  blunted  nature  of 
the  man,  for  whom  impending  or  even  existent 
ruin  was  doubtless  a  stroke  to  be  met  with 
bluff  bravado.  He  despaired  of  attracting 
Spring's  notice,  from  that  elevated  position  ; 
but  suddenly  the  latter  chanced  to  raise  his 
eyes,  discerned  Wainwright,  and  gave  him  a 
recognizing  nod.  Immediately  Wainwrighl 
made  a  signal,  which  Spring  showed  prompt 
signs  that  he  understood.  He  shouted  forth, 
"  All  right,  old  fellow  !  I  '11  come  up."  And 
very  soon  afterward  he  came  up. 


304  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"  So  you  're  down  here  to  take  a  look  at 
the  Board  !  "  he  exclaimed,  vigorously  grasping 
Wainwright's  hand.  "Crazy  old  hole,  isn't 
it  ?  Suppose  it  scared  you  at  first." 

"  Well,  it  was  rather  frightful." 

Spring  put  both  arms  on  the  balustrade  of 
the  gallery,  and  stared  downward  for  a  mo 
ment.  Then  he  turned  to  his  companion  with 
jerky  suddenness,  pounding  with  one  hand 
heavily  on  the  wooden  railing. 

"  By  heavens,  sir,"  he  cried,  "  I  'm  the  hap 
piest  boy  in  it  to-day  !  I  'm  deuced  if  the  luck 
has  n't  gone  dead  with  me  this  morning.  It 's 
made  Towney  Spring  a  man  again.  The  mar 
ket's  changed,  and  I  've  done  one  of  the  neatest 
operations  this  street  has  seen  in  ten  days. 
Some  time  ago,  don't  you  see,  I  caught  a  ru 
mor  that  a  pool  was  being  made  on  North 
West  Common.  I  kept  a  sharp  lookout  ;  soon 
I  got  so  sure  of  the  thing  I  'd  have  bet  my  last 
dollar  on  it.  I  bought  sixty  day  calls  on  five 
thousand  share  of  that  stock,  I  was  so  cer 
tain  it  was  bound  to  move.  Meanwhile,  it  kept 
me  poor  for  a  devil  of  a  time.  Every  dollar 
[  got  I  put  right  into  it.  Yesterday  the  stock 
lid  begin  to  move.  This  morning  it  boomed 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE  305 

and  now  I  'm  in  clover.  I  've  just  sent  a  tele 
gram  up  home  to  Fanny.  She  '11  be  devilish 
o-lad  Poor  little  woman,  I  left  her  half  fright- 

t> 

cned  out  of  her  wits.  Things  looked  so  in 
fernally  black  for  about  a  week  past  that  T 

thought  it  was  all  up  with  yours  truly,  —  d d 

if  I  did  n't  !     But  now  there  '11  be  plain  sailing 
for  a  good  while,  —  no  more  beating  against 
the  wind.      I  '11  pay  up  every  dollar  I  owe,  and 
start  fair  again,    with  a  good   stiff  surplus,  - 
hanged  if  I  don't !  " 

"  I  congratulate  you  most  heartily,"  said 
Wainwright.  He  felt  a  great  inward  thank 
fulness  He  almost  liked  Townsend  Spring 
at  that  moment.  In  imagination  he  could  see 
Ruth's  face  brightening  with  infinite  relief. 

Spring  clapped  him  sharply  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  old  boy  ? "  he 
said,  cheerily  abrupt.  "I've  got  a  heap  of 
things  to  'tend  to,  but  I  'd  have  come  up  here 
even  if  you  had  n't  beckoned.  The  fact  is, 
Wainwright,  my  man,  I  want  to  thank  you  for 
that  little  service  you  did  Fanny.  It  v/as  per 
fectly  beastly  in  her  to  ask  you  ;  it  made  me 
madder  than  blazes  when  I  heard  it.  I  gave 
her  the  tallest  kind  of  a  lecture,  you  can  bet. 


20 


306  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

But  it  was  devilish  kind  of  you  to  go  and  see 
that  confounded  dressmaker,  and  then  do  what 
you  did." 

"  Pray,  think  no  more  about  it,"  said  Wain- 
wright. 

A  little  later  he  separated  from  Spring,  and 
went  up  town.  His  joy  at  Ruth's  deliverance 
began  to  take  tinges  of  melancholy  during  the 
journey.  He  had  sought  Townsend  Spring 
with  the  ardent  wish  to  aid  and  save  her  ;  he 
had  had  no  other  motive,  and  that  had  already 
grown  a  burning  desire.  He  now  felt  that  all 
bond  between  himself  and  Ruth  was  suddenly 
shattered.  It  was  like  the  solid  ground  fail 
ing  to  bear  his  feet.  What  further  righi:  had 
he  to  approach  her  now  ?  His  past  resolve 
rose  before  him  in  stern  requisition  ;  it  im 
periously  demanded  fulfillment.  "  And  yet  I 
will  see  her,"  he  mused.  "  I  must  see  her 
once  again,  —  if  it  be  for  the  last  time  in  botr 
i>ur  lives  !  " 


XVII. 

E  had  to  wait  a  brief  while  for  Ruth 
before  she  joined  him  in  the  small  re 
ception-room.  The  whole  chamber 
breathed  of  memories,  now.  On  this  chair 
she  had  sat  ;  on  yonder  lounge  she  had  thrown 
herself,  when  the  misery  of  her  coming  fate 
had  sent  that  unwonted  surge  through  mind 
and  frame,  leveling  her  like  a  broken  reed.  At 
yonder  fire-place  she  had  stood,  pale,  slender, 
lovely,  shadowed  to  his  thought  by  the  menace 
if  a  bitter  doom.  Near  yonder  table  he  had 
felt  the  parting  clasp  of  her  cool,  smooth  hand, 
The  whole  room  spoke  to  him,  and  in  a  silent 
dialect  of  regret  ! 

She  came  in,  presently.  He  was  surprised 
to  see  none  of  the  enlivenment  he  had  proph 
esied  in  her  serious,  patient  mien. 

"  I  have  heard  the  good  news,"  he  said,  after 


308  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

they  were  both  seated.     "  I  need  not  tell  you 
what  great  pleasure  it  has  given  me." 

"  You  mean  .  .  .  about  Townsend  ? "  she 
replied,  hesitating. 

"  Yes.  I  was  in  Wall  Street  not  long  ago. 
He  told  me  of  the  telegram  he  had  sent  Mrs. 
Spring." 

Ruth   slowly  nodded.     "  It  has  quite  exhil 
arated  Fanny.     She  is  a  new  person.     She  has 
gone  out, —  I  think   to  buy  something.      She 
generally  buys  something,  in  these  cases.     It 
is  her  way  of  showing  her  thanks  to  fate." 
"And  what  will  be  your  way  ?  " 
"  Mine  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  at  your  escape." 
"  I  do  not  understand."     She  had  lifted  her 
brow  in  surprise. 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  Wainwright,  "you  can't 
mean  that  you.  have  nothing  to  be  grateful 
for!" 

She  looked  at  him  intently.  "  I  have  noth 
ing,"  she  answered. 

"  But  you  are  free.     You  are  released  from 
that  hateful  compact  with  your  sister." 
"  Oh,  no,"  she  said. 

"For    Heaven's   sake,"    cried    Wainwright 
'  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  309 

His  excitement  seemed  to  make  her  calmer. 
"  Townsend  has  gambled  and  won.  How  long 
will  it  be  before  he  may  gamble  and  lose  ? 
You  don't  know  him,  —  you  don't  know  Fanny. 
To-day's  temporary  turn  of  luck  will  only  give 
her  a  keener  sense  of  to-morrow's  possible  mis 
haps.  She  will  hold  me  unrelentingly  to  my 
promise.  The  danger  that  has  threatened  her 
will  only  make  her  more  distrustful  of  the 
future." 

Wainwright's  face  was  very  dark  as  he 
said,  quickly  and  harshly,  "  Demand  your 
money  from  Townsend  Spring  now.  Go  from 
this  house.  Go  to  your  former  friends  in  Mas 
sachusetts." 

Ruth  shook  her  head  ;  a  pained  smile  was 
on  her  lips.  "  I  think  I  once  told  you,"  she 
said,  "that  in  spite  of  all  Fanny's  faults  I  love 
her.  She  does  not  care  for  me,  but  I  care  for 
her.  I  can't  help  it.  It .  sometimes  seems 
wrong  for  me  to  feel  toward  her  as  I  do.  I 
know  just  how  cold  she  is, — just  how  selfish. 
But  when  I  picture  the  misery  that  may  come 
o  her,  I  "...  She  paused,  and  her  voice 
broke. 

"  You  are  willing  to  ruin    your  own  life ! '; 


310  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

exclaimed  Wainwright,  finishing  her  sentence 
with  a  ring-  of  intolerance  and  ire.  He  almost 
sprang  to  his  feet  as  he  spoke.  Just  then  a 
laugh  sounded  near  the  closed  door.  In  an 
other  instant  the  door  was  opened,  and  Mrs. 
Spring  entered,  followed  by  Mr.  Amsterdam. 

Wainwright  never  afterward  remembered  the 
greetings  that  followed.  For  a  little  while  he 
felt  incapable  of  speaking,  or  even  listening. 
He  saw  Mrs.  Spring  untie  her  bonnet-strings, 
and  move  here  and  there  about  the  room  at  an 
airy  and  dainty  pace.  He  knew  that  she  was 
rattling  on  with  her  most  loquacious  freedom, 
but  the  sense  of  her  words  quite  evaded  him. 

"  Mr.  Amsterdam  and  I  met  in  the  Avenue," 
she  was  saying,  "  and  we  had  a  long  walk  to 
gether.  He  thinks  I  looked  charming  at  the 
Bodensteins'  ball.  I  was  under  the  same  im 
pression  myself,  but  it  's  always  delightful  to 
have  one's  secret  convictions  of  that  sort  con 
firmed  by  good  authority.  Ruth,  he  actually 
remembers  all  the  details  of  my  trimmings  ; 
is  n't  it  sweet  of  him  ?  I  '11  venture  to  say  it 
is  more  than  Mr.  Wainwright  does."  She 
tossed  her  bonnet  on  the  table,  and  sank  into 
a  chair  ;  she  was  giving  her  hair  little  light 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  3  I  I 

touches,  to  see  that  it  was  properly  ordered. 
"  Why  don't  you  both  sit  down  ?  "  she  ex 
claimed,  looking  at  Wainwright  and  Mr.  Am 
sterdam  with  two  rapid  turns  of  the  head. 

The  latter  at  once  seated  himself  near  Ruth, 
but  Wainwright  remained  standing,  with  one 
hand  on  the  mantel.  He  had  not  caught  the 
meaning  of  her  words  ;  his  mind  was  other 
wise  employed. 

Mrs.  Spring  began  to  unbutton  her  gloves 
and  draw  them  off  with  leisurely  slowness. 
"  Ruth,  dear,"  she  said,  looking  straight  at  her 
sister,  "  we  have  been  talking  a  great  deal 
about  you.  Mr.  Amsterdam  has  got  such  an 
absurd  idea  !  He  fancies  that  you  don't  like 
him.  I  told  him  how  mistaken  he  was.  I 
told  him  just  to  ask  you,  and  find  out  the  real 
facts.  And  he  means  to  do  it"  Here  Mrs. 
Spring  burst  into  one  of  her  gayest  laughs.  She 
threw  back  her  head  ;  her  eyes  were  twinkling 
with  a  mischievous  glee.  She  was  in  one  of  her 
sauciest  humors,  and  behind  it  seemed  to  spar 
kle  a  steely  malice.  Life  had  turned  rose- 
color  with  her  ;  Townsend  was  "  on  his  feet  " 
dgain.  The  old  mood  of  tormenting  Ruth  had 
come  back  with  her  sudden  blissful  sense  of 


312  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

prosperity.  She  had  secure  faith  in  her  sis 
ter's  promise  ;  there  could  be  no  harm  in  try 
ing  her  beloved  trick  of  embarrassing  people 
by  bold  thrusts  at  sensitive  places.  She  in 
wardly  thought  the  man  whom  Ruth  was  to 
marry  a  gloomy,  methodical  bore  of  a  person. 
She  had  always  poked  fun  at  him  in  her  dar 
ing,  jaunty  way.  What  harm  to  indulge  this 
sport  now,  when  she  need  only  raise  a  finger 
and  seal  the  precious  engagement  ?  "  Don't 
deny  that  you  mean  to  make  an  inquiry  into 
the  real  state  of  Ruth's  feelings,"  she  galloped 
on,  with  another  ripple  of  laughter,  addressing 
Mr.  Amsterdam.  "  Mr.  Wainwright  and  I  will 
give  you  a  lesson,  if  you 're  bashful.  We're 
both  practiced  teachers.  We'll  teach  Ruth, 
too." 

Wainwright  was  listening  now.  He  had 
grown  pale. 

Ruth,  however,  had  flushed  deeply.  She 
rose  to  her  feet.  "  Fanny,"  she  exclaimed, 
'*  you  are  cruel  !  " 

"  Oh,  pshaw  ! "  retorted  Mrs.  Spring,  shrug 
ging  her  shoulders,  but  perhaps  feeling  that 
her  reckless  tongue  had  tripped  too  rashly. 
'  You  know  I  was  only  in  fun.  You  never 
could  take  a  joke." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  313 

"  Some  of  your  jokes  are  not  easy  to  take," 
said  Wainwright,  measuring  each  word.  He 
held  one  hand  clenched  behind  htm,  concealed 
from  sight. 

Ruth  turned  and  looked  at  him,  briefly  but 
meaningly.  He  read  an  actual  desperation  in 
her  look.  It  seemed  to  say  to  him,  "  I  have 
borne  enough  ;  I  will  bear  no  more." 

She  again  addressed  Mrs.  Spring.  Her 
voice  was  full  of  agitated  throbs  ;  her  bosom 
showed  how  quick  her  breath  was  coming. 

"  Fanny,"  she  said,  "  I  will  not  endure  this 
mockery  any  further.  You  know  what  I 
mean.  I  refuse  to  be  held,  as  you  have  held 
me  so  long,  the  target  of  your  impudent 
jests." 

Mrs.  Spring  was  genuinely  frightened. 
She  laughed  again,  but  the  laugh  rang  false 
"  Oh,  good  heavens  !  "  she  said.  "  I  hope  you 
are  not  going  to  make  a  scene  for  nothing  !  " 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Amsterdam  got  up 
from  his  chair.  As  he  did  so,  the  fact  of  his 
extreme  height  produced  a  sort  of  visual  shock. 
He  approached  Ruth,  speaking  in  his  precise, 
tormal  way. 

"  Miss  Ruth,"  he  said,  "•  I  think  your  sistei 
meant  no  harm." 


314  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

Ruth  gave  a  scornful  laugh.  She  had  con 
trolled  her  anger  for  so  many  months  that 
now  it  seemed  to  have  whirled  away  all  pru 
dence.  Recent  events  had  severely  unnerved 
her ;  for  days  past  her  life  had  been  one  in 
cessant  crushing  down  of  natural  emotions. 
Her  final  vow  of  sacrifice  had  taxed  heroism 
with  wrenching  force.  She  had  felt  as  though 
she  were  writing  the  vow  out  in  her  blood. 
Yesterday  she  had  seen  her  sister  abject,  sup 
plicating,  blinded  with  hysterical  tears.  She 
had  pitied  her,  and  yielded  to  her  inhuman  de 
mand.  Then,  in  a  few  hours,  the  old  insolent 
demeanor  had  returned.  .  .  .  But  there  was 
still  another  reason  for  the  girl's  anger.  That 
reason  —  perhaps  most  cogent  of  ail — was  the 
presence  of  Wainwright. 

She  did  not  give  Mr.  Amsterdam  a  glance 
after  he  had  spoken.  She  kept  her  eyes  fixed 
on  Mrs.  Spring.  "  I  will  not  do  what  I  told 
you  I  would  do,"  she  said,  with  husky  speed. 
"  I  don't  know  what  you  have  told  Mr.  Am 
sterdam."  She  made  an  impetuous  gesture 
with  one  hand  toward  that  gentleman,  whc 
still  stood  at  her  side,  lank,  decorous,  dis 
tressed,  with  his  peculiar  upper  lip  set  in 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  315 

stony  repose,  like  an  unintentionally  comic 
emblem  of  silence.  "  Hereafter,"  Ruth  hur 
ried  on,  <k  I  shall  fix  my  conduct  by  wiser  rules 
than  any  your  heartless  will  may  dictate.  Oh, 
be  sure  of  this,  Fanny  !  I  need  say  no  more,  - 
you  understand  me."  She  now  took  several 
hasty  steps  toward  the  door-way. 

"  Stop !  "  said  Mrs.  Spring,  turning  pale  as 
she  also  rose.  "  I  will  go  with  you,  Ruth.  I 
do  not  understand  you.  I  wish  to  speak  with 
you  for  a  moment.  I  wish  to  ask  you  " 

"  I  know  what  you  wish  to  ask  me  ! "  cried 
Ruth.  "  And  I  answer  you  '  no  ! '  .  .  .  No  !  " 
she  repeated,  with  a  flash  in  her  eyes  as  they 
met  her  sister's.  "  Is  that  enough  ?  I  break 
my  promise.  I  don't  care, — I  break  it." 
She  passed  from  the  room. 

Wainwright  instantly  followed  her.  He 
overtook  her  just  as  she  had  placed  her  foot 
on  the  first  step  of  the  staircase.  She  looked 
-ound  and  saw  him.  Then  he  caught  her 
hand,  and  held  it  hard,  —  so  hard  that  she 
could  not  free  it  if  she  would. 

"  Will  you  be  my  wife  ?  "  he  said,  very  low, 
)  et  quite  distinctly. 

Ruth   burst    into   tears.      "Ah,"    she    mur- 


316  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

mured,  "  you  are  asking  me  because  you  pity 
me!" 

"  I  am  asking  you  because  I  love  you,"  he 
said. 

Her  cheeks  had  fired  to  scarlet.  His  clasp 
upon  her  hand  was  slackening  a  little,  and 
she  drew  it  away.  Without  another  word  she 
turned  and  went  up-stairs.  Wainwright  still 
followed  her.  Knowing-  that  he  did  so,  she 
paused  in  the  small  central  hall,  near  one  of 
the  drawing-rooms,  rich  and  dim  with  the  win 
ter-afternoon  light. 

"  Let  me  speak  with  you  a  moment  here," 
said  Wainwright,  pointing  toward  this  room. 
His  voice  was  deeply  tender  as  he  faced  her. 

"  Not  now,  not  now,"  she  said.  She  had 
already  placed  her  hand  on  the  banister  of  the 
next  staircase.  Again  he  put  his  own  hand 
about  hers,  but  this  time  with  a  soft  touch. 
She  did  not  resist  him  ;  she  stood  there  trem 
bling,  with  the  tears  falling  swift  and  large 
from  her  uplifted  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "let  it  be  now.  I  want  you 
to  sit  down  at  my  side  and  listen  to  me  for  a 
little  while.  It  need  only  be  for  a  little  while, 
if  you  so  wish.  But  let  it  be  now." 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  317 

She  yielded,  and  he  led  her  into  the  quiet, 
vacant  room.  They  sat  down  together  on  one 
of  the  sofas.  .  .  . 

Nearly  an  hour  afterward  Mrs.  Spring  came 
up-stairs,  and  found  them  thus  seated.  The 
room  had  grown  somewhat  dimmer. 

Wainwright  rose  as  soon  as  the  lady  had 
crossed  the  threshold. 

"  Mrs.  Spring,"  he  said,  "  I  have  asked  your 
sister  to  be  my  wife,  and  she  has  consented." 

Mrs.  Spring  remained  perfectly  silent  for  at 
least  two  minutes  ;  and  two  minutes  of  silence, 
under  circumstances  like  the  present,  form  an 
appreciable  interval. 

"  I  am  very  much  surprised,"  she  presently 
said,  in  a  voice  so  constrained  and  grave  that 
it  did  not  seem  her  own.  "  But  I  congratulate 
you  both."  She  went  up  to  Wainwright,  all 
its  wonted  briskness  absent  from  her  step,  and 
shook  hands  with  him.  Some  adornment  on 
her  person  gave  a  tinkle  amid  the  extreme 
stillness  as  she  did  so  ;  but  it  was  only  a  faint 
tinkle  ;  its  effect  had  an  uncharacteristic  tame- 
ness. 

Afterward  she  walked  toward  Ruth,  and 
stood  before  her.  "  Ruth,"  she  said,  "  I  wish 


318  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

you  the  greatest  happiness.  Won't  you  kiss 
me?" 

Ruth  rose  and  kissed  her. 

"  I  suppose  I  'm  frightfully  de  trop"  she 
then  said,  with  a  thin,  nervous  laugh,  moving 
toward  the  wide  door-way.  "  I  thought  some 
thing  important  must  be  happening  up  here  ; 
but  I  didn't  suspect  anything  quite  so  impor 
tant  as  this." 

"  What  does  it  mean  ? "  questioned  Wain- 
wright  of  Ruth,  as  they  heard  her  descending 
the  stairs.  "  Is  she  glad  ?  " 

"  I  think  she  is  glad,"  Ruth  answered. 
There  was  a  slight  pause,  then.  "  She  always 
liked  you.  I  don't  undertake  to  say  why,  but 
you  always  represented  one  of  her  prefer 
ences."  .  .  . 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Spring  went  down  into  the 
reception-room,  where  Mr.  Amsterdam  awaited 
her.  She  remained  for  some  time  in  close 
conversation  with  this  gentleman.  At  the 
conclusion  of  their  interview  Mr.  Amsterdam 
rose,  bade  her  a  courteous,  exact  good-by, 
and  left  the  house.  He  left  it  for  the  last 
time  in  his  life,  and  he  went  away  to  suffer, 
He  was  forty-nine  years  old  ;  he  was  a  wid- 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  319 

ower  with  six  children  ;  but  he  went  away  to 
suffer. 

Wainwright  smiled  to  himself  while  he  sat 
alone  in  the  chamber  of  his  hotel,  rather  late 
that  same  evening.  The  scruples,  prejudices, 
theories,  which  had  dealt  him  such  distress  but 
a  few  hours  ago  had  vanished  into  air ;  they 
had  left  not  a  wrack  behind  them.  Beside  the 
precious  discovery  of  possessing  Ruth's  love, 
and  the  sweet  recognition  of  what  a  vital 
warmth  fed  his  own,  all  harsh  distrust  of  their 
future  wedded  contentment  had  grown  serene 
certainty.  A  great  and  holy  truth  had  be- 
-come  manifest  to  him,  and  he  looked  with 
cloudless  vision  straight  at  its  brightness.  It 
had  not  solved  the  meaning  of  life,  since  that 
grace  is  not  given  the  best  of  us ;  but  it  had 
taught  him  why  so  many  are  content  to  live 
on  with  that  meaning  unsolved,  and  stifle  com 
plaint  till  the  last  wound  has  made  the  last 
scar.  He  had  cared  for  no  woman  before  as 
be  now  cared  for  Ruth  ;  and  that  first  and 
finest  of  human  sentiments,  whose  sanctity 
had  thus  far  addressed  him  only  through  im 
agination,  at  last  had  blent  itself  with  actual 


320  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

events,  and  run  a  shining  thread  across  the 
duller  fabric  of  experience.  It  was  like  the 
difference  between  seeing  the  bird  go  white 
and  fleet  along  its  native  blue,  and  having  it 
perch  sleek  and  fearless  on  his  wrist,  to  feed 
from  his  hand.  The  dawn  had  dispelled  all 
his  phantoms ;  he  found  it  very  easy  to  gaze 
stoically  upon  the  coming  kinship  with  Mrs. 
Spring,  and  even  her  husband  as  well.  He 
wondered  whether,  in  any  case,  he  would  have 
held  to  those  frigid  lines  of  reasoning  whose 
calculation  now  looked  to  him  so  finically  geo 
metric.  He  even  asked  himself  whether  the 
struggle  through  which  he  had  lately  passed 
was  not  a  mock  battle,  after  all,  —  a  sort  of 
light-infantry  exercise,  from  which  the  pas 
sions  stood  aloof  with  their  big  guns,  while  a 
clatter  of  blank  cartridges  raged  harmlessly. 
Had  logic  ever  learned  enough  engineering  to 
set  lasting  masonries  against  the  current  of 
such  a  love  as  his  for  Ruth  ?  Or  could  that 
current,  deep  and  strong  as  he  now  knew  it, 
ever  have  enslaved  itself  by  turning  the  mo 
notonous  mill  of  dreary  theoretic  self-denial? 
Judging  after  the  event,  Wainwright  impera 
tively  declared  that  any  but  his  recent  course 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  321 

would  have  been  impossible.  He  may  or  he 
may  not  have  judged  rightly.  Circumstance 
will  sometimes  lead  us  to  happiness  by  so  un 
expected  a  bend  in  the  pathway  that  we  for 
get  how  much  we  owe  the  guide,  and  boast 
that  our  own  feet  have  secured  us  the  fortu 
nate  goal.  .  .  . 

During  the  next  day  the  news  of  Wain- 
wright's  engagement  traveled  rapidly  among 
certain  social  cliques,  and  it  is  credible  that 
Mrs.  Spring  may  have  had  a  hand  in  this  ex 
peditious  transit.  Early  in  the  evening  of  the 
same  day  he  was  on  the  point  of  quitting  his 
apartment,  when  Mr.  Binghamton  suddenly 
announced  himself,  quite  bristling  with  con 
gratulations. 

"  My  dear  Wainwright,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I 
am  delighted  !  I  can't  help  but  feel  like  an 
accomplice  in  your  good  luck,  —  and  it  is  an 
enormous  piece  of  good  luck  for  you,  as  I 
have  n't  the  least  hesitation  in  affirming.  You 
remember  what  agreeable  things  I  said  of  that 
charming  girl  just  before  I  made  you  ac 
quainted  with  her  ?  Let  me  hug  the  delusion 
that  my  halcyon  recommendations  have  had 
something  to  do  with  this  blissful  result !  " 


322  A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE. 

"I  haven't  the  least  objection,"  replied 
Wainwright,  with  a  smile,  "  to  your  believing 
that  you  brought  about  the  match." 

"  Thanks,"    said    Mr.    Binghamton,    with    a 
second    effusive   shake   of    his   friend's  hand. 
"  Now  you  are  an  American  indeed  !  " 
"  Yes,  I  am  certainly  an  American." 
"  But  you  must  naturalize  yourself,  as  they 
call  it,  in  other  ways.     You  must,  truly !    I  feel 
that    I    have  n't    done   with   you    yet,  by  any 
means.     You    have    shown    me  qualities   that 
positively  tempt  further  development.     I  mean, 
of  course,  in  a  purely  national  way.  .  .  .   You 
don't  intend  taking  your  bride  to  England,  by 
the  bye  ? " 

"  Never  permanently,"  answered  Wain 
wright,  amused,  but  with  decision.  "  We  shall 
tive  here." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.     I  thought  as  much, 
^nd   now   that  you  have   acknowledged  your 
country,  I  want  ^  you  .  .  .  yes,  by  Jove,  I  want 
you  to  adorn  it." 

"Ah,  I  wish  that  I  could!" 
"  Nonsense  !     You  can  !     There  is   always 
something  to  be  done  for  a  land  in  which  those 
best  suited  to  serve  it  serve  it  so  ill."     Here 


A    GENTLEMAN  OF  LEISURE.  323 

Mr.  Binghamton  seized  Wainwright's  hand  for 
the  third  time.  "  Egad,  old  fellow,"  he  cried, 
"  you  shall  run  for  Congress  !  " 

Wainwright  was  silent  a  moment.  "  I  should 
like  very  much  to  run  for  Congress,"  he  pres 
ently  said. 


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